Nomad by Fate
by deathsteel
Summary: High school was hard, but being an adult is harder as Dean and Castiel soon find out when their relationship faces obstacles that neither of them expected. Heartache, sacrifice, and betrayal are things that both men must face before they're able to admit that maybe in trying to rescue each other they've lost more than they ever hoped to save. Sequel to Born to Run(read BtR first!)
1. The View

There were a lot of names for what she did: call-girl, exotic dancer (though she didn't do much dancing, just enough to attract potential customers), lady of the night, working girl, hooker. Some of them were much more offensive than that, but she preferred escort, simply because it didn't leave that lingering taste of strange men in her mouth that she always struggled to brush away before falling into her own bed in the early hours of the morning. And she wasn't too terribly ashamed to call herself that, it was something that if she still spoke to her mother, she might be able to tell her about without collapsing into a heap of neuroses on a therapists' couch somewhere.

I mean, the profession had been around longer than any other and flesh would probably be the only currency to survive the inevitable economic collapse that Abbie kept ominously predicting. Her firey red-headed coworker said that she was in it for that reason alone, to hone her skills so that when the end finally did come (whether it was from zombie apocalypse, severely misguided leadership, or from nuclear fallout Abbie never bothered to explain) she could ply her wares for top dollar and be the most well respected whore out of all of them.

Her coworker called them all whores, men and women alike because she said there was no point in sugarcoating it. Eve told her to shut the hell up and get back to work, sending her off with another client because Abbie's special talents made her a particular favorite amongst those who frequented Eden. The clients only had one name, no matter what their gender was or what they asked to be called in the private rooms that each of the workers had in the sprawling complex that sat on the outskirts of Lawrence, Kansas; they were always Johns.

But she had found her out, it was the only way really that Eve would ever let her break her contract early without being so fucked up as to sue her about it. She had seen other girls get out the same way, only she was pretty sure that they hadn't been doing it on purpose like she was doing. The trick was to make it until Eve tested them all again; once every three months a special doctor came in to make sure that everyone was clean and everyone was taking their meds so that nothing could blow back on their intrepid employer. She just had to get her timing right, make it look like an accident or she had no doubt that Eve would have her killed just to prove a point to all the other girls who hated working for the dead-eyed brunette.

She had started taking more shifts so that she had more options, someone who wasn't a complete creep. Someone who didn't make her feel like she wanted to peel her skin off after she had sex with them, there had only been a couple that fit that description so far.

One had been sweet, gentle, asked what a girl like her was doing in a place like this and then had just wanted to know her name the first time he came to see her; unable to hide the disappointment that had flittered across his blue eyes when she had told him that her name was whatever he wanted it to be. It had been the first time in a long time that she wished she could still be that wide-eyed, innocent girl from Battle Creek, Michigan who had just been looking for some way to save herself for once when she had left her hometown for the furthest away she could get with the money she had. He had visited her three times since then and called her Andrea every single time.

The other had been older, had asked her to call him Jim and had just smiled benevolently at her when she said her name was Lexi, it was the name she always gave when the whole 'its whatever you want it to be' speil didn't seem like it was working. He hadn't been back to see her, but she thought that that was more of a guilt thing than anything else because she had seen his clerical collar and rosary shoved into the pocket of his coat plus she was young enough to be his daughter so she didn't take it personal when she didn't see him again.

And she was making an inordinately large amount of house calls, something that had been Eve's idea when business had started to slow down over the holidays and people were less inclined to spend time in a brothel as opposed to with their families; those had been some interesting clients. The paraplegic who had just wanted to make her come, had gotten off on just touching her and holding her and making her feel unashamed about how she made a living like she usually did. The girl that had gotten her as a Christmas present for her boyfriend, to be the third to their threesome that ended up with her watching more than participating because they got off on voyeurism more than anything else.

She didn't expect this house call to be any different, Valentine's Day was in a couple of days and people always got lonely during the holidays; she knew that she did. So when the call had come (the man had just been asking for a girl, any girl), she had jumped at the chance to go. Because they were slow and she needed the money and her last at home test that afternoon had come up negative so she needed to try harder. Her and her coworkers' meeting with the doctor was just about a month away and if this didn't work then her only way out of Eden was killing herself; she already had bought the things she needed for that, the straight razor, but she really really did not want to have to use it.

Her only thought when she climbed out of her Volvo in front of the large apartment complex near the University of Kansas campus was about how fucking cold it was and how whoever this was better take into account how short her skirt was when he was determining her tip. That's a lie, she had two thoughts. The first was about how cold it was and the second was about how she needed to be more careful or Eve was going to start asking why she was caring around condoms when she was supposed to be on birth control like everyone at work who needed it. It was a precaution of course, in case whatever John she was seeing was entirely not worth risking her uterus for.

There was a checklist about it all; that had been one of the first things that she had set for herself when she decided to do this, standards. Looks didn't play into it, neither did age or any kind wealth that she could have observed. Eve's girls and boys didn't come cheap, but she didn't have any intention of asking for help from whoever ended up being the one, so the fact that they had phonied up the dough to be with her only had relevance on her pocketbook and nothing more. The whole thing had to do with health, mental stability, and the overall probability that whatever guy it ended up being wasn't a fucking asshole.

She took great care to make the assholes wear condoms, citing policies that didn't exist as a reason for being overly cautious.

She glanced down at the scrawled apartment number that Eve had written down on the super ironic guest check tickets that she had picked up to write down the information for house calls. They looked like the ones that the all-night diner that she sometimes went to after her shift ended used and she made a point to pay before the sweet, older woman who waited on her brought her ticket so that she wouldn't throw up everything she had just eaten. It was close to around here, probably within walking distance. Maybe if this was quick she could go get a milkshake or something before heading back to Eden.

"Two thirty-seven," she muttered, hustling into the building that was mostly quiet since it was so late, almost two in the morning.

The elevator was quick and fuck at least it was warm, but it gave her enough time to try to rub some feeling back into her legs and arms as she rode up to the second floor and the short walk to the apartment was just long enough that she could fluff up her hair and put herself into the mindset of Lexi that she had let slip on the car ride over. When Bob Dylan had been playing on the local night radio station and she had been singing along like the twenty one year old she should be, instead of the jaded, bitter escort that she had to be every night. Was it any wonder that she was desperate to get out?

She knocked on the door and something that sounded like a bit of an argument on the other side was all that she heard before it was opened by a grizzled, bleary eyed looking man in his late forties. He looked vaguely familiar, maybe he was a regular for someone else? Ambyr maybe? Her coworker tended to draw those giving daddy-types since she was all fragile and innocent looking, like someone who guys just wanted to take care of and provide for. Why didn't she get guys like that? Except for the guy who called her Andrea, most of them were wham, bam, thank you ma'am before they were out the door and back to their happy little housewives.

"You'll do," he said gruffly, waving her into the darkened apartment.

_Gee, thanks, _she thought keeping her forced, coy smile on her face as she stepped inside with a seductive sway of her hips and fingertips trailed across the older man's chest. _Might as well get this over with. I totally deserve a milkshake._

"So, how are we doing this?" She asked, making her way towards the couch that she could make out in the dimly lit living room.

The only lights were coming from the kitchen, illuminating enough of the apartment that when she spun around with a flip of her long brown hair to perch alluringly on the armrest of the sofa the light glinting off the handgun on the table was the first thing to catch her eye. It also made her heart skip more than a few beats and made her curse Eve for ever thinking it was a good idea to meet a John in their own home where there were no metal detectors lining the front doors to keep the psychopaths out and no security to keep her safe like there were at Eden.

_Great, if I was going to die anyway I should've just stayed in Battle Creek._

"Don't worry, lady," The man said, running a hand tiredly over his face as he moved past her to pick up a broken lamp that she hadn't seem laying on the floor next to the couch until he carefully set it onto the coffee table in front of the sofa with a resigned sigh. "That's not for you, it's just...incentive to make my son do what he's told."

His knuckles were torn, bloody. When he bent down he had let out a soft, pained sounding wheeze that made her reach out abortedly to help him before she remembered, _Oh yea, there's a fucking gun right there. _She crossed her arms over her chest instead, mostly to keep the older man from seeing how badly her hands were shaking, but maybe she wasn't the one who really needed her help right now.

"Your son?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain calm even though all she could think about was how stupid she was for letting her prepaid phone run out of minutes, but it had been that or not eating this month and survival had seemed to hinge more on her not starving than being shot. Or at least it had at the time.

"Yea, you're here for him." The other man said gruffly, pointing dismissively down the hallway and causing her to turn her head to follow the gesture. "Second bedroom, just ignore the bathroom door. I'll have it fixed by the time you get done, if you need it afterwards."

"What am I supposed to do to him?" she asked, what a dumb question? Wasn't there only one thing she was good for, isn't that her uncle had said?

"Fix him." The man said tersely, waving an impatient hand at her. "Go on now. Second bedroom, the one with the light on."

She nodded quickly and walked slowly towards the hallway, glancing nervously over her shoulder at the gun on the table to make sure that the older man wasn't planning on shooting her once her back had turned. There were all kinds of weird kinks that Eve had assured her that she wouldn't have to engage in while working for her, those had been the only things that she had been worried about before she had signed the contract. Things like necrophilia or vampirism, things that involved her getting hurt or scarred or killed, but there was a different kind of scarring that came with this kind of work.

And the guy was a regular, she had remembered when she saw his hands. Carlos had said that his favorite regular had just the best hands, broad and strong even though they were weathered because the guy had told her coworker that he did construction. She had seen those hands one Wednesday when she was on her way out the door after Eve had let her go early, holding the door open for her as she left and he came in like he usually did once every couple of months

He wasn't going to shoot her or at least she was pretty sure that he wasn't. The gun wasn't for her, it was for someone else; she just needed to make sure that she was far far away when the John decided that he needed to use it. But that didn't stop her from clutching at her chest when she saw that the bathroom door had been torn off its hinges as she passed it or from missing the hole that had been punched into the wall of the hallway she was going down or the dried bloody fingerprints that were smeared on the door knob of the second bedroom, the one with the light on.

* * *

Things had just gone so wrong and Castiel was still reeling from how sudden and violent it had been to act on all of his instincts that were screaming at him to go for help.

The problem was if he went for help, he didn't know what John would do. Not with how he had been waving that fucking gun around like he had any idea what he was doing with it; Castiel knew that Dean's father had been clueless about his own handgun because he had been handling it way too flippantly for a firearm that already had a round chambered and the safety off. His own experience with guns in the ROTC had taught him that you didn't point a loaded weapon at anything unless you meant to use it and yea, John had been mad, livid even, but he was pretty sure that the older man had no intention of shooting his own son.

No matter what he had or hadn't seen or heard during the time that he had been in the apartment and they hadn't been aware of it. God, how long had he been in the apartment with them?

Dean had said that his father would be gone for a month and even with his boyfriend's impromptu road trip to Chicago to support him at the trial that had effectively locked away his eldest brother, Raphael, and his father for a long time, John had only been gone about a week. A week did not equal a month, not even on the most fucked-up misprinted calendars in the universe.

They had gotten home late the night before, driving into the early hours of the morning with Castiel dozing with his head in Dean's lap until they reached the street that his boyfriend's apartment complex was on and the other boy roused him enough for them to stumble out of the Impala and up to their bedroom. Chicago and everything there that had hurt him was behind him now and he fell asleep in Dean's arms thinking only of the future and how bright it had looked for the two of them; together against anything.

It had been early afternoon when he woke up and he probably would've slept longer if it hadn't been for Dean trailing light kisses across his chest as the other boy mused aloud to himself about whether or not it was too late to make breakfast. Cas remembered murmuring something along the lines of it never was too late for breakfast before rolling over onto his stomach and burying his face back into his pillows with a muffled groan.

Dean had just chuckled and said that he knew he had made the right choice by picking a smart guy, earning another groan from Castiel that turned into a pleased hum when the larger boy started kissing at his neck and back instead, causing him to stretch all the way down to his toes as he arched into his boyfriend's touch. The other boy had just kept kissing though, tracing down his scars like he did every time he thought that Castiel needed the reassurance and mouthing along the curve of his ribs until Cas tried to wriggle away from how the light touches were almost ticklish only to be caught by Dean's arms caging him and pining him down to the mattress. He loved it when Dean did that.

"You have no idea, Cas," Dean had muttered into his ear, running his callused hands along Castiel's biceps and down to his fingertips before going back to kissing down his spine. "No idea what you do to me. How amazing and strong and gorgeous you are. You don't know at all, its just...perfect. You're perfect."

"They warned me you were a sweet talker, Winchester." Castiel had teased, smiling into the mattress because no one had warned him. The other boy's charm was just another one of the many things that he loved about Dean Winchester, that he would never stop loving about Dean Winchester.

"Mmmm," his boyfriend had hummed against the small of his back, pulling the fabric of Castiel's boxers over the swell of his backside before nibbling at the newly revealed flesh. Cas could feel the cupid's bow smile against his skin even as he gasped from the not really painful sting of Dean's teeth. "What else did they warn you about me?"

"Well this girl in my Calc class said you're a shit lay." That was a big fucking lie, it felt like an eon ago not hours that Dean had proved to him just how much of a lie that was.

Long enough that his lip didn't hurt any more from the one pot shot that John had gotten at him when he had opened the bathroom door to find Dean's father standing there looking thoroughly horrified and disgusted to see his eldest son in the bathroom with Castiel. Long enough that Gabe had texted him about the outcome of the custody hearing, it had gone just as they had thought it would; Anna was safe from their father, Uncle Zach had been caught up with the whole restraining order business with their father, and Aunt Gail hadn't even had to testify in front of her husband so he would never know her part in keeping their niece out of Illinois at all.

Long enough for it to get dark and for his grip on his cell phone to become painful as Cas waited for Dean to call him, he just needed Dean to call him. Tell him that he was okay, that John hadn't killed him, that _they_ were okay. He sat in the Impala for as long as he could before it got so cold that he couldn't feel his feet anymore. Oh yea, the world was still turning. It hadn't ended just because John had caught him and Dean together, so why wasn't Dean calling him?

His own house felt empty, big and scary in comparison to the haven that he and Dean had created for themselves in the apartment; in the royal blue bedroom that Dean had called 'ours' when he had asked for Cas to go and get him a clean shirt after their shower together. The shower that had—NO. He didn't want to associate the breathless, beautiful gift that Dean had given to him in the shower with the pain and fear that had come afterwards at the hands of the other boy's father.

So he sat on the couch in the living room of his house, ignoring the texts and calls that weren't from Dean because they weren't from Dean and trying very hard to keep it together by not dwelling on how the other boy had just looked so frightened as he had jumped across Cas when John's punch had knocked him back into the bathroom door, making it crack off its frame and sending him to the floor. He tried not to think about how John's fist had sounded connecting with Dean's nose that already had a bump in it from being broken once before and he really really tried to not hyperventilate when he remembered how Dean's eyes had pleaded with him to stay, even when he had been yelling at him to go when his and John's fight had moved into the living room of the apartment.

He should call someone, the police probably and tell them what was going on. But the one text he had gotten from Dean less than an hour after he had left the apartment, shoeless and clutching the keys to the Impala like the lifeline they were had just said "No cops." If there was one thing that he owed the other boy, one thing that Dean deserved for sacrificing himself to save Castiel then it was the smaller boy doing what was asked of him. So he wouldn't call the cops and he couldn't call anyone else because they would no matter what texts he might show them from Dean.

So he waited, watching the clock above the mantel of the fireplace and staring at the picture that Gabe had framed of him and Dean headed out to the winter ball in their hilariously unusual tuxes. He wasn't above praying, though he had told his boyfriend on more than one occasion that he wasn't sure if anyone was listening, so he did. Cas prayed that Dean would be okay. He prayed that John would see reason and get help, counseling or something for the hatred that he had for how both of his sons were choosing to live their lives. He prayed for the strength to make it through all of this without doing something that would get both he and Dean killed. He prayed.

* * *

"It's not as bad as it looks," Dean said emptily to the slender brunette woman standing in his bedroom door, looking at him with her brown eyes as round as saucers and her hand covering her mouth to stifle the gasp that had come out as soon as he had turned to fully face her. "Might as well come in. Sit down or something."

His mind felt fuzzy and numb, detached from what John had told him this girl was here to see him for. It could be partially due to the painkillers his father had given him to try to dull the throbbing mess of tender skin and blossoming bruises that the left side of his face was, but the fact that John had given him a beer to wash it all down with probably hadn't helped. Cas had gotten out though, while John was distracted from Dean punching him in the ribs and that was all that mattered.

He watched her nod quickly and take a quick step into the room, shutting the door behind herself and hesitating for just a second before walking to where he was sitting on the edge of his bed to reach out a shaky hand towards his face. She stopped before she touched him though, her eyes wide and concerned and so very scared that he felt bad for her. Maybe he should explain, none of this was her fault after all. It was him and his stupidity that had kept him from making sure his dad wasn't home yet as soon as he and Cas had gotten into the apartment.

It was the relief that he hadn't had to sit on the hard wooden benches of the Illinois courtroom anymore, watching the love of his life relive every painful, agonizing second that had led up to Castiel thinking that suicide could be his only possible out that had made him blind to the fact that there had been lights on in the apartment when he and Cas had gotten there, even though Dean was pretty certain he had turned them all off before heading over to housesit for the Novaks while they were in Chicago.

The elation that Dean had had feeling how alive his boyfriend was as he thrust into him and held him close and shaking while they both came down from their post-orgasmic high before Cas had made the muffled suggestion that they take a shower that had finally made Dean brave enough to ask the other boy how much it hurt and Cas had offered to explain it in the only way he could. He shook his head, leaning away from the woman's outstretched hand because how could be explain how things had gotten so fucked up without going all the way back to the beginning?

"Did he, your dad, did he do this?" She asked quietly, shaking her head disbelievingly and turning her back on him when he nodded.

He could hear how high-pitched and hysterical her voice was and okay, he needed to focus so that he could try to calm her down before she had a panic attack; because of Cas he knew what the beginnings of one looked like now. Her breathing had gotten faster when she saw him and she had started clutching at her chest in that way that Cas did when he was trying to make his lungs work like they should, the last thing he needed was her fainting or screaming or something and just drawing this out more than it needed to be.

"Hey, lady," he began thickly, wincing when he ran a hand through his hair and his battered knuckles brushed through his sweat spiked hair. "Don't freak out or anything, its fine. I'm gonna be fine, just try to calm down."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't then you're going to pass out probably," Dean answered, clearing his throat in an effort to fight against the way his vision was graying out around the edges; he hoped he didn't have a concussion or anything.

His dad had hit him over the head with a lamp after all, to make him stop fighting once Cas had gotten away. Dean thought that maybe a small part of his dad had wanted Cas to get away, but then again Dean had never fought for anything harder in his life than he had fought for his boyfriend's safety so maybe there were no small, sane parts of John Winchester left. He just hoped Cas stayed away long enough for the cops to do their actual jobs and come arrest his dad who must have had a mental break or something over the whole Sam thing, finding out that Dean was with a guy too had probably just been the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.

John had taken his phone, but he knew that the other boy wasn't stupid. He just needed to stay alive for Cas, do whatever he had to do so that he could hold the other boy in his arms again and hopefully his boyfriend would forgive him for whatever he ended up having to do so they could see each other one more time.

"No," the woman snapped, her brown hair fluttering around her shoulders as she spun back to face him. Her expression was more worried than frightened and Dean cursed his dad for dragging her into his fucked-up homophobic vendetta. "I mean, why did he do this do you? What could you have possibly done to deserve this?"

Dean scoffed at her forthrightness, admiring it for what it was: concern. His mind raced with ways that he could explain this to someone without having to go all the way back to him being a kid and how his dad had reacted to him kissing Andy Gallagher at the pool that fateful summer that his mom had left. Literary references raced through his mind, much like they had once when he had thought that he would be alive long enough to write the story of his and Cas's love for everyone who had doubted them. _Romeo and Juliet_ was the only thing that immediately came to mind.

"Have you ever loved someone who your parents just really didn't like?" He asked, trying to sound easy going and joking, but his voice broke on 'loved' and he rushed to get the rest out before he started crying. Months of not being able to say 'I love you' to Cas and now he could say how he truly felt about the other boy? To a fucking stranger?

"God, that's what this is about?" She breathed, gingerly sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him. Keeping enough space so that Dean knew she obviously didn't want to do this just as much as he didn't. "You dad didn't like your fucking girlfriend so he beat the shit out of you? Oh jesus, is she okay? Did he hurt her too? Is she going to the cops?"

"I sure as hell hope so," Dean muttered, wiping angrily at his eyes that were now blurred by tears and cursing under his breath when he pushed the salty, stinging liquid into the cut that he had running across his left cheekbone. "Cas is smart though, he'll know not to try to help me by himself."

"Oh," the woman said softly, nodding in understanding beside him as she rubbed her hands against her bare thighs. "Is he alright, then? Your um, boyfriend? Did your dad catch you two together?"

"I think he's okay," he replied, brushing his fingertips gingerly over the swollen skin around his eye. John hadn't let him look in the mirror, just tossed a damp washcloth in Dean's direction and told him to get cleaned up, that someone was on their way to fix him. "He only got hit once and I guess it could be worse, my dad could have walked in on us instead of just hearing what we were doing. Shit! He wasn't supposed to fucking be here!"

"Hey," she soothed, patting him awkwardly on the knee while trying to tug her skirt down at the same time. "Shit happens. You couldn't have known. Just, um...be thankful that he's safe. That your dad didn't catch him and make him stay to watch because otherwise we'd actually have to...y'know?"

"Did I get the only hooker who can't say the word sex?" Dean joked, mentally squinting to see the silver lining that the other woman was trying to point out for him. "Fuck, lady. You're just as emotionally constipated as me. What's your name?"

"It's whatever you want it to be, baby." She said quickly, blanching as soon as the last word left her mouth and turning apologetically towards Dean. "Shit, I'm sorry. That's just...old habits die hard. You can call me Lexi, if that helps anything."

"Is that really your name?"

"Are you really gay?" Lexi countered, arching an eyebrow at him and looking pointedly at the laptop that John had been playing old _Casa Erotica_ DVDs on since Dean had regained consciousness, saying that until he could get a professional over to help him then his son was going to watch it until he was normal again. "Because all of the evidence is saying otherwise."

"No offense, Lex," Dean began, rubbing at the back of his neck as he got up to shut the laptop, spinning on his heel to lean back against the dresser that Meg and Cas had just moved two weeks ago when they had redecorated his bedroom for his birthday. "I mean you're pretty and all. If you had asked me six months ago, you would have been exactly the kind of girl that I would have jumped at the chance to sleep with, but now..."

"I get it, kid." She said laughing self-consciously. "You can't help who you fall in love with, but what do I know? I'm just a jaded hooker being held at gun point to turn a straight teenager straight again. You're lucky, some of us don't get the luxury of choosing who we fall in love with; the love of my life is a different guy every night."

Dean didn't know what to say to that, I'm sorry? It didn't feel like enough, obviously this job wasn't something that Lexi wanted to be doing, but right now he was so deep in shit himself that he couldn't think about rescuing anyone but him or Cas. She was fine, she was older and even though his dad had been waving that fucking handgun around like a moron Dean knew that he wouldn't shoot her if she didn't manage to 'fix him'. His dad had told him that gun was meant for him, which was fine because the only thing that Dean had to live for had already escaped the apartment; all Dean had to worry about anymore was getting back to Cas alive.

"I'd rather not have sex with you then if you don't mind," Dean explained, holding his hands out at his sides, palms facing the woman in an apologetic way that felt weirdly apt for the situation they were in. "I mean if there is another way that we can convince my dad that we did, then I would much rather do that."

"Jeez, if I can't figure out a way to act you out of this then I must be losing my touch," She said, letting a sly, shaky smile quirk at her mouth as she patted the bed beside her. "Come on kid and tell me, are you normally a screamer?"

* * *

John was pretty certain that Dean thought he was stupid. In fact, he was pretty sure that both of his sons didn't think much of his intelligence because those ungrateful brats had taken everything that he had given them, all of the sacrifices he had made trying to raise them after their mother left and chosen to make their lives harder than they had to be.

Sam...he could almost understand Sam; the kid had always been 'sensitive', bookish, kept to himself, and didn't want to play the sports or do the rough and tumble little boy things that Dean had always been so keen on doing. It had almost come as a relief when the little faggot had moved out, with Bobby saying that if John couldn't see that he was doing the same thing to his youngest son that his old friend's father had done to them then he was delusional. John knew though that the only thing he had ever been delusional about was how he had felt about Bobby and about how Bobby had felt about him. It wouldn't have been so easy for the other man to walk away if they had been in love, if Bobby had ever loved him.

Dean though he didn't understand. His eldest son had always been a ladies' man, hell John had seen his son stumbling home more than once, neck stained candy apple red by some little tart's lipstick and reeking of perfume-a smell that stuck out like a sore thumb in the masculine only scents that lingered in the apartment. Sure, there had been that thing with Ellen's nephew when Dean was a kid, but nothing since then. Nothing that had made him worry that his son could have the same confusing urges that he had had at that age for other men, nothing that he didn't think he hadn't taken care of when he had beat the lesson into Dean after that first time.

No, if anything it was those fucking queer Novak boys; poisoning his sons against him. He had had his suspicions about that Cas kid since the first time that he had seen him, but everything with Sam and the older Novak had just been more urgent and obvious and something he had honestly thought he could fix at the time. But his lectures had just driven his youngest son right into the arms of that jailbaiting homo and Dean hadn't been around to hear most of them so how could he have known?

In fact, he never would have if he hadn't gone to that bar in Eudora with his first week's pay from the month-long remodeling job that he was working and seen Dean on the news which had been focusing on some human interest story out of Chicago. It had been about some history-making court case involving assisted suicides and gay rights, what the two had to do with each other John had no fucking clue. But there Dean had been kissing that Novak boy on the courthouse steps in front of god and everyone like it was nothing.

He fell asleep drunk waiting for his son to get home so that he could confront him about the whole thing; have Dean tell him it was all a mistake or a phase and then they could move on. John could still have the grandkids, the ones that he and Bobby had never planned on having when they were teenagers racing against the clock and the odds to be together in the harried, heated moments that they had had before it all came crashing down.

But he had woken up hearing it, something that no parent ever wanted or imagined that they might have to hear from their children. Still he hadn't been able to tear his eyes off the bathroom door, horror struck to find as it was that the gun in his hand wasn't going to be used to protect Dean from anything worse than himself. He was too late, his son was already so far gone and so lost in the twisted, disgusting, familiar things that he was doing with that filthy fucking fairy that the only way John could save him would be to either kill him or try to fix him the same way that John had tried to fix himself before Bobby had turned back up in his life and ruined it all again.

He should have known that Dean would be too smart and too stubborn to actually do what he was told; even when the threat of being shot was held over his head it apparently wasn't enough of a motivator to get his son interested in self-preservation. Because John now knew exactly what his son sounded like during sex, not that he had ever wanted to know, and it was nothing like the sounds that were coming out of the second bedroom at the end of the hall. Fucking stupid, foolhardy, pigheaded asshole. John knew that his son got every single one of those traits from him and him alone.

John didn't knock, because he knew that he wasn't going to walk in on anything that needed to have a warning attached to it so that the parties involved could cover up, preserve their dignity or whatever Eve's girl wanted to call it. So he wasn't surprised in the slightest to find his son and the girl he was paying to fix him fully clothed and just sitting side by side on the unfamiliar bed in the unfamiliar blue room having a grand old laugh at his expense. Well they weren't laughing when they saw the unamused look on John's face or the gun that he was toting tiredly at his side, feeling like it weighed a million pounds more than it actually did.

"You must think very little of me, Dean." John said to his son, pulling back the hammer until it clicked and rechambered the round that he had been ready to put between that Novak kid's eyes earlier this afternoon. "I wish you could just see that I am trying to help you."

"Oh shit, oh fuck, jesus mister fuck fuck," the girl was muttering hysterically, shrinking back into the mattress of the bed behind Dean and crying silent tears that made her caked on mascara run in rivulets down her pretty olive-skinned face. "Christ we're sorry, fuck. Just don't shoot us."

"I think that Eve would consider it a favor," John sneered at her, feeling his stomach turn over when he thought about how he owed that pimping harpy a visit anyway along with Carlos who was used to seeing him every two months or so when the urge to give into the desires that made him hate himself got too strong to fight anymore. "Putting a useless, lying piece of snatch out of commission for her so that she didn't have to get her hands dirty, but no. I'm not going to shoot you, either of you."

"Well if you're bluffing dad then how about you put the gun away?" Dean asked, putting his body between the older man and the girl's so that he could shield her from any more of the mess that she had gotten roped in to. "Jesus Christ, you're scaring the shit out of her and not getting what you want so what's the point?"

"The point is I want you to see it, Dean." John explained, hefting the gun up from where he was holding it at his side so that he could look at it contemplatively as he realized that he meant every single word he was about to say to his eldest son. He just loved his boys so damn much, pity he hadn't gotten the chance to save Sam too since Bobby had gotten all of his stuff and he hadn't seen the younger boy since before Christmas. "I want you to know that I mean business; now I've paid a lot of money for this lady's time so that she could help you. The least you could do is not throw the gesture in my face."

"I didn't ask for yours or anyone else's help, dad." Dean pleaded, holding his hands up to show John they were empty as he stood up and took a tentative step towards the older man. "There's nothing wrong with me, I love Cas."

"Oh well then that makes this even easier," John mused, pointing the gun swiftly at his son who probably just assumed that the older man was drunk or at least hung over, but that had worn off while he had been waiting for Eve's girl to arrive and he was more sober than he had been in years. Dean took a startled step back and were it anyone else, John probably would've thought that the surprised look on his son's face was funny, but it wasn't anyone else and this wasn't funny. "You'll fuck her or I'll find that faggot and kill him."

"Dad," Dean began, glancing over his shoulder at Lexi who was crying in earnest now, face buried in her hands. "You can't be ser—"

"Do it, Dean." John said seriously, finally remembering the full name of his son's lover that he had thought sounded so fucking sissy the first time he had met him. "Do it or Castiel dies."

* * *

Author Note: Alright guys, I know its late, but here is the first chapter to the sequel for Born to Run. Let me warn you and apologize for it now, this is going to get much worse before it gets better. For those of you just now reading this, I suggest you go back and read the first part, Born to Run. It will answer any background questions you might have and probably give you more that you'll want answered, plus it's 30 chapters (200K+ words) of sometimes fluffy, sometimes smutty, sometimes nail-biting angsty goodness (in my opinion, but I'll let you be the judge of that).

Please, stick around. Let me rip your heart out of your chest and feel free to scream at me for doing so.


	2. One Too Many Mornings

_The warm spray of the water pounded down on him, flattening his hair to his forehead and the sides of his face where Dean had just been cupping his jaw, kissing him gently and slowly with the wet slide of their tongues together as the larger boy had shuddered and sighed his way through his own throbbing release deep inside Castiel. He ran a hand over his chest and abdomen, half-heartedly washing away the dried streaks of his own come that had been there since Dean had stroked him through his own orgasm; one leg hooked over the larger boy's shoulder at the knee and the other wrapped around his waist pressing hard enough into Dean's lower back that his boyfriend would probably feel the phantom ghost of his heel there for days._

_Castiel smirked to himself when he thought of Dean aching in the almost the same places that he did; his lower back, his legs, his arms muscles that were sore from the most unconventional workout that was still his favorite right up there with jogging and running and rifle drills. He reached behind himself blindly, fumbling for the bottle of Dean's body wash that he knew was on the short ledge that was built into the wall so that he could finish his shower and then he and Dean could go get something to eat. Luckily the diner served breakfast all day so even though it was now almost five Dean was still going to be able to get an omelet the size of his face; a desire that he had voiced into the hollow of Castiel's throat when his boyfriend's stomach had rumbled ominously at them. _

_The door to the bathroom was on his left and Cas just smiled wider when he heard it open and close, squinting through the steam and the water streaming down his face to see Dean clad in his favorite pair of blue plaid pajama pants divesting himself of said pants before he climbed into the shower behind Castiel. The shower in Dean's apartment was much narrower than the one that had been in their hotel room the night of the winter ball and it wasn't exactly a tight fit for the both of them to be in there together, but it was close and that was just fine. _

"_Shit,Cas." Dean cursed, tucking his arms behind Castiel's back in an effort to avoid the scalding jets of water pouring down on him by using the smaller boy as a shield. "Why do you always have to have the water so hot?"_

"_I like it hot," Cas replied, leaning back against Dean as he reluctantly turned down the heat on the faucet to a temperature that Dean might find more bearable. "But since you're a big ol' baby I'll suffer through a cold shower just for you."_

"_You're such a gentleman, sweetheart." Dean teased; Castiel heard the pop of the bottle of body wash behind him and glanced over his shoulder to see Dean lathering soap over his chest and shoulders._

_His boyfriend arched an eyebrow at him when he noticed Cas watching, smirking mischievously as he leaned in close to place a chaste kiss on the nape of the smaller boy's neck; solid sudsy chest pressed against his back for just a second before Dean looped an arm around his shoulder to hand him the bottle of body wash that he had been reaching for before Dean had walked in in all of his chiseled Greek statuesque glory and distracted him like he always did._

_Dean flinched slightly when the water hit his arm, shielding the scar that was on Cas's chest for a second before he reached for the faucet after the smaller boy took the bottle from him. "Jesus, Cas. How does that not hurt you?"_

"_In case you haven't noticed," Castiel replied matter of factly, lathering the handful of body wash that he had poured into his arms and across the back of his neck while Dean ran his hands gently across his back and ribs. "I have a pretty high tolerance for pain. Can you get my back, darling?"_

_He felt Dean's hands, warm and safe smoothing across his shoulder blades; kneading into the muscles there before spreading the soap that had been on the back of his neck down his back as much as he could. Cas knew that his boyfriend was looking at the scars on his back, at the V that he had cut into his own skin using the flail his father had provided; scars that would probably never go away and hadn't hurt nearly as bad as the ones that had been left on his psyche, the ones that Dean had helped heal. _

"_Is that why—" Dean started behind him before cutting himself off with a disgruntled huff that caused Castiel to turn around warily. The larger boy's hands settled on his waist before Dean pulled him in tighter so their chests were pressed together and his boyfriend could press his forehead into Cas's with a sigh. "Nevermind, baby. It's stupid. Of course it's not the same."_

"_What's not the same?" he asked his boyfriend, tilting his head so that he could try to catch Dean's gaze in his own and read the answer in his boyfriend's eyes like he normally did. _

_It was a quirk that most of their friends found annoying- how he and Dean communicated without speaking, but it was helpful since Dean had trouble talking about and saying certain things. Castiel wouldn't still be in this if he couldn't read his boyfriend's body language; see in every step and every smirk how much Dean loved him, even though the other boy had never been able to say it out loud. _

_Dean let out a self deprecating chuckle, but didn't open his eyes as he wrapped his hands around to Castiel's lower back; rubbing soothing circles into the skin there like he did when he was prepping and stretching Cas before they made love. Always careful, always considerate so that he wouldn't get hur—Oh. _

"_No, Dean." Castiel murmured, ducking his head into the larger boy's neck as the blush crept up his cheeks. They didn't usually talk about sex, besides what they did or didn't like and there wasn't much that Castiel didn't like for Dean to do to him or vice versa, in fact he couldn't think of a single thing that Dean could do to him that wouldn't give him a raging erection. Like the one he had now. "I mean, my tolerance of pain doesn't really have anything to do with it."_

"_So it __**does**__ hurt?" Dean asked, voice thick with remorse that Cas knew was unwarranted because if Dean were doing anything to him that he didn't wholeheartedly want done then he would have said something. "Baby, I'm so sorry. We don't have to—"_

"_It doesn't hurt Dean," Castiel said quickly, his head shooting up fast in alarm when he heard how Dean was about to blame himself again for something that wasn't his fault; like Sam having to move out because John was a bigot or his mom leaving to get away from the older man, but leaving her son's behind because they were damaged or deficient in some way even though everyone could see that they weren't. "I mean, it does hurt. A little, at first. But that's what prep is for and once we are y'know…then it's different. It feels…full. Does that make any sense?"_

"_Not really," His boyfriend said, shaking his head with a confused frown on his face causing droplets of water to spatter across Castiel's collarbones. "I mean, I don't see how that could feel good."_

"_Do I have to explain anatomy to you Dean?" Castiel asked exasperated by the blinders his boyfriend sometimes put on when he was working himself into a good and steady bad mood. "The prostate is a glan—"_

"_Yea, I know, Cas." Dean cut across, rolling his eyes and nudging the smaller boy out of his way so that he could duck his head under the spray of water; putting his hands on the wall under the shower head so that he could lean into it and work out the stiffness that Castiel knew his boyfriend probably had from sitting in the car for almost ten hours the day before. _

_There was a slightly darker patch of skin on Dean's right butt cheek, the beginnings of a bruise left by Cas's heel digging into the firm flesh as he had urged his boyfriend to thrust into him harder, deeper, faster until his orgasm had come crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Castiel reached out with a prideful smirk on his face to touch it before a thought struck him. Why was Dean so suddenly curious about whether he was hurting him or not? _

_Sure, he was always careful to the point where Cas was usually begging Dean to fuck him; talking dirty and using his ROTC voice in the way he knew the other boy liked so that he would just get on with it already and still Dean would ask if he was okay or ready or any other phrase that his boyfriend chose to use before finally putting on a condom and burying himself as deep as he could inside of Castiel. Close enough that Castiel finally felt complete and whole and not covered in ugly, blemishing bruises that matched the ones on his mind. Was Dean scared that Castiel would hurt him? Had his boyfriend been thinking about this as much as he had?_

"_I could show you," he offered softly, settling his trembling hand on the swell of Dean's backside with his thumb brushing timidly over the barely there bruise. _

_Dean glanced over his shoulder at Castiel, the water pouring down the front of his chest and over the muscles that he had a hard time keeping his hands off of even when the larger boy was not enticingly nude and glistening from the steamy air surrounding them. He could see his boyfriend was scared, though Dean would probably sooner give up pie than admit that he was scared of anything, but Cas knew the other boy well enough to know what the emotion looked like; he could see it in the way his lips parted slightly, green eyes searching his face before his boyfriend's teeth sunk into his lower lip and he nodded. _

_It wasn't a huge, enthusiastic holy-fucking-hell-yes type of nod, but it got the point across to Cas. And it got the point across to his cock, which was already hard again despite their fairly recent love making just from the thought that maybe Dean wanted this as badly as he did, maybe he had all along. _

"_Are you sure?" Castiel asked again, clearing his throat when his voice came out hoarse and already fucked out. Dean nodded again, more emphatically this time and Cas rushed to pull back the shower curtain so that they could get out and dry off and make it to the bedroom before he exploded just from excitement and nervousness and apprehension that he may not be able to make this as good for Dean as the other boy constantly managed to make it for him. _

"_No," Dean said quickly, catching onto Castiel's elbow to stop him just as he moved to step over the low wall of the tub to reach the towels on the rack for him and Dean. "Don't go."_

_Cas tilted his head at the other boy, stepping in close to wrap his arms around Dean's waist in reassurance. "I have to, there are things we need. Lube. Condoms. I want to do this right."_

"_If you go I might lose my nerve," his boyfriend admitted, one of his hands turning into a fist against the wall and punching at the cheap, mass-produced laminated material in frustration. "Fuck, I'm screwing this up already."_

"_You aren't," Castiel murmured soothingly into the larger boy's temple; earning a noseful of water that made him come up sputtering when he went to breathe in the scent of Dean's cedary body wash that he loved. He took a step back from Dean who had turned to face him when he started coughing and was trying very hard not to laugh at him, he could tell. "Ugh, fucking water. You suck."_

"_On occasion," Dean teased, edging around Castiel again so that the smaller boy could put his back to the water as he tried to catch his breath back. "But seriously, babe. Maybe this is a sign, I mean maybe we shouldn't…why the hell are you looking at me like that?"_

"_It's okay to be nervous, Dean," Cas said plainly, swiping a hand through his hair in an effort to shake off the excess water; it was mostly pouring down his back now, lukewarm and only mildly annoying. "If you don't want to, I understand."_

"_I'm not nervous," Dean snapped, sighing apologetically when he saw how his boyfriend's face fell before reaching out to pull them both together; skin flush against each other from knee to chest so that Castiel could feel his arousal nestled up against the larger boy's. "And obviously I want this. I just…I don't know what to do…on this end of things."_

"_Well if you aren't going to let me leave then there's not much we actually can do," Cas explained trying to keep the impatience out of his voice as he looked pointedly through the shower curtain towards the door to the bathroom. _

_He glanced back at his boyfriend who looked completely and utterly mortified; Dean's green eyes were focused on the ceiling, but they kept flickering back to Castiel. Every time they did he saw something else in them: arousal, embarrassment, fear, want, love. Cas let out a sigh of defeat, nodding to himself a bit before reaching out to cup Dean's jaw and turning the larger boy's face towards his own until their eyes met. _

"_Turn around Dean," Castiel ordered lowly, not missing at all how Dean's breath hitched in his throat or how the pupils in the other boy's green eyes dilated or how the hard cock pressing into his hip twitched in anticipation before Dean turned around again to face the back wall of the shower. "I'll take care of you."_

_Cas watched appreciatively how Dean hesitated for just a second before pressing his hands against the wall and leaning into them, arching his back so that his ass and hips were angled invitingly towards the smaller boy. He watched the tense muscles jumping under Dean's skin for a second, the beads of condensation rolling over the tanned, freckled skin before he reached out to put his right hand on his boyfriend's shoulder; stepping in close until his erection was brushing teasingly and maddeningly at the crevice between the globes of Dean's ass. _

"_First, I'm going to kiss you," Castiel said, causing Dean to look back at him; glancing down at the area where the smaller boy's hips were positioned close to his backside before swallowing and nodding quickly. _

_He leaned in, draping himself across Dean's back in order to reach his mouth so they could kiss with mostly tangled tongues considering the awkward angle that they were approaching each other. Cas tried to not move his hips, wanting Dean to relax his clenched muscles before he startled the other boy by touching anywhere near his entrance. His free hand found Dean's hip, squeezing there to reassure his boyfriend before he let it graze over the curve of Dean's ass and down his thigh; around to the front of the larger boy's muscled leg where he reached out to give Dean's still hard cock a couple of long, slow strokes that he hoped would distract him. _

"_Does this feel good?" Cas muttered, pressing his forehead into Dean's shoulder when the other boy broke their kiss with a gasp when he felt the hard line of the smaller boy's cock slipping between his unclenched cheeks. Dean nodded quickly, eyes wide and desperately searching Castiel's face for what he wasn't sure, but his boyfriend let out a quiet breathy whimper and bit his lip hard; breaking eye contact when his long-lashed eyelids fluttered closed over his lust blown green irises. "I'm not going to do anything to hurt you, I promise darling. I just want you to see what it feels like to have something there so you can know for sure if this is something you want."_

"_I trust you, Cas." Dean said breathlessly, turning his head so that it hung low between his shoulder blades and all Castiel could see was how hard his boyfriend was breathing due to the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders in front of him. "I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me."_

"_Good," he said, removing his hand from Dean's slightly pulsing cock so that he could suck his index finger into his mouth; it tasted slightly salty from the precome that he had been spreading along Dean's shaft, but the steam in the air and the water trailing down his elbow had diluted the taste from how strong he was used to it being. Cas toed at Dean's calf lightly, removing his finger with a soft slurp and reluctantly stepping back so that he could get his hand between his body and the larger boy's. "Now spread your legs wider, shoulder width."_

_Dean quickly complied, shuddering slightly when Castiel brought his hand down from the larger boy's shoulder to spread his cheeks. Castiel shushed him softly, stroking his thumb over Dean's skin in a way he hoped was soothing his boyfriend's nerves He trailed the finger that he had been sucking on down the newly widened crevice, skipping over Dean's furled hole completely to reach all the way between his boyfriend's legs to cup the other boy's balls in his palm; rolling them together and earning a groan from the trembling boy in front of him as he moved back to Dean's perineum and massaged the sensitive, nerve laden skin there firmly. _

"_Shit, Cas." Dean moaned, bucking his hips into the air in front of him when he felt the light pressure behind his balls from his boyfriend's teasing, talented fingers. "Yea, I like that. You've done that before."_

"_Nice to know you've been paying attention," Castiel teased, peppering soft kisses over the other boy's shoulders until he felt the muscles relax under his lips. "Dean, I want you to tell me if I need to stop, okay?"_

_The larger boy nodded again, taking a deep breath that came out as a groan when Cas moved his finger to brush around the puckered ring of muscle Dean had probably never imagined being an erogenous zone before they had met each other. For Cas it had been different with Dean, felt different than when he fingered himself while he masturbated with thoughts of Elvis or his old almost not really boyfriend Daniel or most recently and exclusively Dean being the person he pictured touching him with deft hands that made him tremble and cry out when he finally reached completion. _

_But even though it was different with Dean touching him in his most sensitive area, it was still familiar because he had done it to himself on countless occasions when the ache of being alone or being apart from the other man got too much to take. For his boyfriend this was entirely new, foreign and reminding himself of that is what slowed Castiel down, that and the desire to not make Dean regret this when he had just decided to open up about it. _

_Cas was hard himself though, just from seeing Dean spread out and trembling and wanting in front of him so it was taking everything he had to just keep lightly rimming around Dean's entrance with his spit slickened finger that was nowhere near lubricated enough to do what he actually wanted to do. Which was to take Dean as fast and as rough as he could, to claim him and mark him so that everyone would know and his boyfriend would never forget just who he belonged to; it was instinctual and slightly overwhelming. Scary._

"_How does that feel?" He asked lowly, wishing his cock was pressed between the warm confines of Dean's ass cheeks again, as close as he was going to get without lube and condoms, but it had felt right in so many ways. "Do you like this?"_

"_Cas, I'm hard as a fucking rock if that answers you fucking questions okay?" Dean snapped, letting out a harsh moan when the smaller boy pressed his finger harder against the other boy's entrance; his cock giving a twitch that caused pre-come to spurt out of the head and slide slickly down the length that was arching upwards towards his stomach when he felt the quivering ring of muscle flexing against his cautious digit. "Oh Jesus, yea more of that Cas. Fuck, how do you not come just from this?"_

"_You're just not used to it," Castiel murmured, smirking when he thought of how little it had taken for him to come the first time he and Dean had just dry humped. "It'll get less intense."_

"_I sure as hell hope not," the other boy replied, pushing his hips back into Cas's hand and surprising them both when the tip of the smaller boy's finger slipped inside to the first knuckle earning a hissing moan from Dean and a startled, stuttered apology from Castiel as he froze; consciously tensing the muscles in his arm so that his finger would go in any farther and hurt the other boy. _

"_Shit, Dean," Castiel reprimanded as Dean gasped and quivered in front of him; his hole fluttering tightly around the intruding digit causing Cas's cock to throb hard in response. "God, I'm so sorry. Fuck, you can't just do that. What if you got hurt?"_

_Dean dropped his hand down to cover the one that Castiel had holding onto his hip, twining their fingers together with a breathed out apology that turned into a moan when Cas saw the muscles of the larger boy's lower back flex, making his hole clench hotly around his finger before relaxing again. _

"_S-sorry, baby." He whispered, tugging on Castiel's hand that was wrapped in his own until it moved around to the front of his abdomen; trailing it down against the hard muscles until he felt the coarse patch of pubic hair that framed Dean's cock brushing against his fingertips. "I'm just…oh fuck, I just keep thinking of what it's going to be like. With you inside me, I don't even care if it hurts. I want to feel you, all of you. God, that sounds so fucking gay."_

"_No, it's normal Dean," Cas chided gently, pulling his finger back out of his boyfriend until he was just rimming around his entrance again; ignoring the disappointed noise that Dean made and really ignoring how his cock had apparently only heard 'don't care if it hurts' because __**he **__cared and as much as he wanted to fuck Dean into the wall until he was screaming for more and begging to come, not having at least lube was going to make that something he had to put on the back burner for now. "Shit, you have no idea how much I want to, but we can't."_

"_Why not, Cas?" Dean whined, moving back until his ass met Castiel's cock again; rubbing enticingly against him so that he had to quickly wrap his free hand around the base of his arousal, making a tight circle so that he wouldn't come all over the small of Dean's back and his beautiful fucking ass without having the other boy come with him. _

_He groaned softly when Dean continued to grind his damp, flawless skin against as much of Catiel's cock as he could; finally conceding and sliding his erection between the other boy's cheeks just as he grasped firmly onto Dean's dick and gave it a long, tight stroke. Cas squeezed the head of Dean's cock softly, using the pre-come that emerged from the other boy's slit to ease the glide of his hand as he started to roll his hips down against the muscles encasing him, finding the sweet friction that he had been looking for and earning a appreciative groan from his boyfriend. _

"_See, Cas? How hard was that?" The larger boy said, his voice thick with arousal as Castiel watched his dick slide down Dean's backside and imagining that he could feel his boyfriend's eager hole quivering against his heated flesh; he added a twist of his wrist as he stroked Dean to retaliate for the phantom feeling that was driving him too fast towards the edge. "Ugh, fuck yes. Oh god, you're so good Cas. So damn good, just think of what it's going to be like. When you fuck me, just like this after I come from you stretching me out. I'll be begging for it Cas and fuck! Jesus Christ, fuck. You have such a big dick, baby. It'll be so tight, I'll be tight just for you."_

"_You sound like a porn star," Castiel muttered, secretly loving it when Dean got loud and vulgar because he was the one doing that to him, not some girl who would never see this side of his boyfriend. The side that was open and honest and vulnerable because he trusted Cas to give him whatever he asked for and to not judge him for it later. His hips sped up along with his hand and he grabbed onto Dean's hip again for leverage as he thrust harder and rougher against him. "Shit, darling. Oh my god, Dean. You're so beautiful like this. I love that about you. Jesus, I love you. Dean, I love you so much."_

"_Oh fuck," Dean cursed softly, letting Castiel manhandle him easily as he stood on his tiptoes so he could feel as much of the smaller boy as he could against his skin because he was so close to coming that he didn't even care how needy and desperate and loud his moans were anymore. "When we do it, Cas. Fuck, right there! Shit, when you..ugh..f-fuck me I want you to come inside me. I want to feel it when you come."_

_The smaller boy almost choked at that. Well, that and the unmistakable, not imagined at all because what fucking reference did he have to imagine how that would feel feeling of the head of his cock, the jutting part of the crown catching on the rim of Dean's hole; dragging across it in what felt like tantalizing slow motion so that he had to pull away from his boyfriend and take himself in hand, stroking over the skin that was slick from pre-come and sweat and his own spit that he had left on Dean's skin to keep himself from fucking into Dean as hard as he could._

"_Oh shit, Dean." Castiel growled out, his voice sounding lower and more primal than anything else he had ever heard coming out of himself. "Fuck, I can't—fuck I'm gonna come. Oh Christ."_

_Dean's hand wrapped around his own again, around the one that was stripping over the larger boy's cock with little to no grace and way too much urgency; bringing Castiel back into a rhythm that he liked and thrusting into it with a throaty, startled moan as he turned his head and watched Cas touching himself with the head of his dick still caught between Dean's ass cheeks and came. Spilling over their interwoven fingers and the wall in front of him while the muscles of his backside unconsciously clenched around the swollen head of Castiel's member, keeping him close as his come pulsed hard against Dean's sensitive entrance. _

_Cas stroked himself through his orgasm until his vision stopped spotting, milking the last of his come out of his cock and onto Dean's skin before he wrapped both of his hands around the other man and leaned his weight against him; blearily kissing the freckled shoulders that he loved while Dean slumped with his chest against the shower wall. It was only then that he noticed that the water running down the backs of his legs, barely hitting him now that he was standing so close to Dean, had turned colder and was probably going to lose what little warmth it had left soon if they didn't hurry._

"_Darling come on," he urged, tugging on his boyfriend until he turned in his arms, abdomen a mess of his own seed and a lazily, contented smile on his face. "You wanted an omelet, remember? Now we're running out of water and there are no omelets to be seen, you see the problem here right?"_

"_You're so amazing, Cas." Dean sighed, allowing himself to be pushed playfully into the tepid spray without even wincing and going quickly through the familiar motions of washing himself while Castiel handed him bottles of body wash and shampoo. "Baby, you're just…I love you."_

"_I know," Castiel replied, but it felt wrong in his mouth, backwards like he was saying Dean's line and Dean had said his, and he frowned down at his hands; stepping into the spray with a startled yelp that made him move lightening fast when he felt the cold water against his skin. _

_By the time he turned the water off, Dean was already mostly dry and toweling off his hair. The larger boy tossed a towel at him and Castiel dried off in a perfunctory way before pulling back on the pair of Dean's pajama pants that he had slept in along with his fluorescent orange 'I heart Justin Bieber' t-shirt that Gabe and Sam had decided would look better if they crossed out the singer's name and wrote 'cock' instead. Even Dean had said it was a vast improvement when he had pulled it out of the duffle bag that had traveled to Chicago and back with him to wear as he slept. _

"_Baby, can you grab me a shirt?" Dean asked, leaning into towards the bathroom mirror and frowning at the stubble that was on his cheeks as he rubbed the flat of his palm over it. "I think I'm gonna shave."_

"_Pants too, of course." Castiel replied leaning in to give Dean a quick kiss on the cheek, he was sort of fond of the stubble and wondered idly if he could talk the larger boy into leaving the growth of hair be for a little while once school got out, just to see what it looked like. "I'll be right back, I think I'm going to get that sandwich that Gabe is always going on about."_

_Dean scoffed and Cas headed towards the bathroom door, glancing back at the other boy who was smiling in the mirror at him before he opened it. And then his eyes took in everything at once: the glint of the gun in John's hand, the shocked and disgusted expression on his face that meant that he had heard everything, the spilled beer staining the older man's shirt, the hole that had been punched into the wall behind John's shoulder, the split knuckles on his free hand as it formed into a fist to hit him in the face._

_It wasn't the punch that jerked him awake and it wasn't the loud slam and crack of the back of his head hitting the bathroom door and it being pulled off its hinges as he fell still clutching the handle._

Only it wasn't that either that had him sitting up on the couch in his living room, the hand that was still clutching his phone even as he slept shooting up to his heart as he jerked himself awake to the sound of the front door slamming and his brother's voice filtering into the living room.

"Sam, I told you they were here," Gabe complained, Cas heard his brother's house keys clatter into the bowl they kept by the front door and then a couple of thumps that were probably shoes being taken off or luggage being set down. "Both the cars are here and THOSE DICK BAGS ARE PROBABLY FUCKING RIGHT NOW! And that's why they forgot to pick us up from the airport."

"I don't know, Gabs." He heard Sam say unconvinced and Castiel was desperately trying to think of what he should say.

He still felt slightly disoriented, his pulse pounding hard in his head mostly in the spot where he could feel a lump had welled up from him hitting his head on the bathroom door in the apartment as he had fallen back after John hitting him as he slept. So that all…had been a dream? That's why it hadn't felt right when Dean had said he loved him, Dean never said he loved him; he never had to. Cas gingerly ran his fingers over the bump, sighing in relief that they didn't come away bloody or anything because he had no idea how he would explain away a concussion to his brother and Sam, but then he licked his lips nervously and felt the sting of the saliva on his busted lip and figured that that would probably be pretty hard to explain too.

Cas glanced at the doorway, listening hard to see how close his family was to discovering him just nonchalantly sitting on the couch in his pajamas with his shirt that had small bloodstains around the collar from where he had pressed the material against his lip in an effort to staunch the flow while he sat dumbstruck in the Impala waiting for Dean to come out of the apartment; waiting for the other boy to get away from John like he had. But his boyfriend had never come and Castiel had been too scared and cowardly to go check on him before the text came from Dean saying, 'No cops.'

He knew that Dean was just trying to protect him, but what was he supposed to do? Just sit around and wait for John to say, "Oh, it's no big deal that I heard you saying you wanted to be fucked, son? I don't care that you're gay? All is forgiven, let's pretend that I haven't made you hate yourself for the last ten years." Cas knew that wasn't going to happen, no chance in hell, but he couldn't take on the older man alone and waiting all night for some message from the other boy saying that he was okay had just driven him crazy, _so what was he supposed to do?_ He wished someone would tell him, a real adult or something.

"Dean usually answers his phone when I call," Sam continued, his voice sounded tight and tired and making Cas feel even worse because it reminded him of how Dean's had sounded when the other boy had been worrying for no reason about how he would do on the SATs. Had that only been a week ago? "And even if it goes to voicemail, he usually calls me back within an hour or sends me a text telling me to fuck off or something. It's not like him to just not answer."

Sam knew something was wrong, could tell in that brotherly way that always caused Cas to just know when Gabe needed a break from cooking or cleaning or being the guardian of him and Anna so that he could actually focus on himself for once. His heart leapt in his throat when he thought of Gabe fixing all of this for him, coming up with a plan as easily as he did his pranks so they could bust into the apartment and save Dean. Should he ask the other two men for help? Would more people get hurt by John if he did? Would Dean ever forgive him if he put Sam in a position to get killed by their father?

"Maybe his phone is dead," Gabriel said, his voice was getting closer and Castiel frantically looked down at his own mostly red, blinking battery icon on his phone like it would tell him what to do. He let out a broken sob when he saw that he had missed calls and voicemail notifications, but then his phone gave the little shutting off trill that was its cheerful death rattle before going completely black. "Did you hear that? Cassie? Deano? Are you assholes here? You motherfuckers better be dead, do you have any idea how much I just spent on a taxi?!"

His brother rounded the corner, stomping into the room in his rainbow colored toe socks to level his most accusing finger at Castiel. Gabe glanced over his shoulder when Sam followed him into the room, pointing hard at his younger brother a couple more times before sighing dramatically and flopping down in the nearest overstuffed armchair; burying his head in his arms as he collapsed.

"You and babycakes owe me seventy six dollars and forty two cents, Cas," Gabriel said wearily, giving a chuckle when Sam's larger hand smoothed over his bowed head. "Plus tip. And that cab smelled weird, like patchouli and weed. So, drying cleaning too."

"That's enough, Gabe." Sam muttered, ruffling the older man's hair affectionately before settling himself onto the end of the couch that Castiel had unwillingly fallen asleep on while he was waiting for some word from Dean; the younger Novak was trying not to cry and to just go quietly insane in his huddled corner of the seat so that he wouldn't beg the other two men to help him, to save Dean so that Dean could save Cas. The younger boy let out a tired sigh and leaned his head back to the rest on the couch behind him, "Don't listen to him, he just needs a nap. Where's Dean?"

It would be so easy to tell them, the truth. Dean is being held hostage by your fucking batshit crazy homobashing father, it's alright though; he probably has it under control. He told me not to call the cops so I'm expecting him to walk in the door with a smile and a large pepperoni and olive pizza any second now. That's probably what the calls were and the voicemails and shit, had there been a missed text message notification too? Cas didn't know if he was going to be able to hold this together much longer.

"He's out, getting um…breakfast for us." So he lied. "And he um…his phone is dead, mine too, see? We forgot to plug them in last night, we were watching a movie in my room and fell asleep."

"Yea, Cas," Gabe scoffed, looking up at him over the curve of his arms with a knowing smirk on his face. "I'm sure you two did a lot of 'sleeping'. Come on, bro. Like I haven't used the sleepover excuse a million billion times; think of who you're talking to for a second."

"How did Dean go get you breakfast if both of the cars are here?" Sam asked from his end of the couch sounding half-asleep, but still managing to crack an eyelid at Castiel when he didn't immediately give an answer. "Cas, whoa dude. What happened to your lip?"

"Oh, uh…this?" he stammered, stomach lurching when his older brother got up out of his seat to move closer to him and take his chin in his hand. Gabe studied the cut with a frown on his face that just got deeper and deeper the longer Castiel watched, so he looked at Sam instead, but the younger boy's expression wasn't much better. "It's nothing guys, I fell."

"You're such a fucking liar," Gabe snapped, dropping his hand disgustedly. "The truth, now. Did Dean do this? Where is he? I'll fucking kill that bowlegged asshole."

"Gabs come on," Sam objected, reaching out for his boyfriend and shooting a startled glance at Castiel who could only shake his head at all the questions he couldn't answer without putting more people in danger. "Dean would never hit Cas. If he said he fell then he fell, okay? Everything doesn't have to be the absolute worst scenario all the time."

Gabriel looked between his boyfriend and his younger brother several times before scrubbing a hand over his face in agitation. "Fuck, you're right. That moron fucking loves, Cas. Sorry, bro. Being in Chicago around all of that trial stuff and having to hear you and Anna talk about it…my head is just…psshh I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's okay," Castiel whispered, looking over at Sam who still didn't look wholly convinced by his 'I fell' excuse, but he was thankful that someone else could see how much Dean loved him; that it wasn't all something he had blown completely out of proportion in his head like he thought it was sometimes. "But Dean didn't go and get breakfast."

"Well, unless he went to the neighbor's house to get it," Gabe said sarcastically, deciding that Sam's lap looked like the very best place to sit in the whole living room and clambering onto the broad expanse of the other man's knees and thighs. "The closest restaurant is like ten fucking miles and I doubt he walked there."

"What happened, Cas?" Sam asked, wrapping his arms around the older man's waist and forcing him to be still instead of continuing to squirm as he tried to get comfortable. "Did you guys get in a fight for something?"

"Yea," he said quickly, grabbing on to the lie like it was a life preserver as he nodded his head and looked down at his phone again; pushing the power button only to get no response from the deader than dead device. "Last night, he um…he said he needed some space. I don't know he didn't give a reason. Maybe all the trial stuff fucked with his head too."

"Maybe," Sam said, grunting when Gabriel accidently elbowed him in the ribs before smiling apologetically at him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "But it's probably because he blames himself for not being able to protect you from it all. It's ridiculous, I know. You two didn't even know each other then, but that's how Dean is. He'd sacrifice himself and his happiness in a second if it meant the people he cares about didn't have to suffer. And he cares about you, Cas. You should probably go talk to him; I bet he's going stir-crazy in the apartment without his car."

"Yea," Gabe agreed, nuzzling his face into Sam's neck. "You should go make up with him, like now. Because otherwise you're about to get a front row seat to 'The Moose and Gabs Show'."

"Gabriel," Sam said warningly, giving the smaller man a startled look where he seemed to be burrowing into the hollow of his throat.

"We shared a hotel room with him!" The older man objected, gesturing blindly towards Castiel who was just grateful that he had an excuse to go over to the apartment without having to lie anymore; getting kicked out of his house was better than sneaking out, at least this way if no one ever saw him or Dean again they would know where to start looking. "And I just got rid of Anna, thank god for small miracles named Kevin Tran. I don't think I'm being unreasonable for wanting some time alone with you."

"You aren't," Castiel interjected quickly when it looked like Sam was about to object. "I'm just gonna go, I'll text you guys later and let you know if we're staying at the apartment."

"That's it, Cas." Sam told him, giving him a thumbs up before forcibly removing Gabriel from his lap and holding him down on the couch with one hand. "Positive thinking, I'm sure you two will make up in no time."

He nodded at the younger boy and headed towards the door, dead phone clutched in his hand and no plan at all for how he would handle this fucked up horrible situation, but at least he remembered to put on shoes this time. Maybe that was a good sign.

* * *

"Oh god," She muttered to herself, walking as quickly towards her Volvo as she could manage as she rummaged her keys out of her purse. "Ohshitohgodohfuck."

She didn't look back at the building as she unlocked the doors and climbed inside because she knew that the John was watching her, shitty prepaid cell phone pressed against his ear with her boss on the other end who had just told her to keep her fucking mouth shut and get back to Eden, all in that eerily polite voice that made her skin crawl. She could imagine Eve's dead, brown eyes flashing in irritation as the John had explained the bare minimum of the situation to the younger woman; skipping over the parts where he had fucking practically held a gun to her head and made her fuck his son.

Fuck, did that make her a rapist? How fucking old was that kid anyway?

He looked about eighteen, but she had always been shit with guessing that sort of thing. Another fucking skill that she lacked along with self-preservation and intuition which both would have told her that she needed to not take any more house calls because she was really pushing her luck there; Lexi knew it would only be a matter of time before she got a weirdo and while Dean had been nice, too nice and understanding even though she could feel his tears falling on her back when they had done what the John wanted them to do, his father was a fucking psycho.

She had convinced the older man to leave them alone when Dean hadn't been able to get hard and it was probably the only favor that she was going to be able to do for him besides turning off the lights like he had asked so that he didn't have to see her. Lexi didn't take it personally, she may have never been lucky enough to fall in love, but she could imagine how hard it would be to cheat on them just so you could stay alive long enough to maybe see them one more time; even if they hated you for what you had to do to in order to keep breathing.

But Eve knew about all of it now or enough to know that Lexi was freaked out and might go to the cops; she was going to be watched, maybe even sent home with one of the thuggish mongoloids who worked security for the intrepid brothel owner so they could keep her in line. The sun was just now coming up over the horizon, she figured she had enough time to get home and make it look like she was still taking her birth control and get rid of all the pregnancy tests in her home before Eve sent someone looking for her; if she was fast.

"Fuck!" Lexi screamed, pounding the steering wheel of her shitty, used car in frustration until her pinkie finger was throbbing and reddened from the impact.

Had it been a couple of months ago, she would have prayed to Saint Rita to help her through the lost cause that was her fucking miserable life. Had it been a different house call, she would've been stopping at the diner down the street from the apartment complex and getting a peanut butter and banana shake, no whipped cream, before heading back to Eden.

But faith and milkshakes seemed to have abandoned her for now and Lexi knew that despite what reassurances she may have given Dean to help him cope with the guilt he had already obviously been feeling before she left the apartment, it didn't mean anything. Patrons saints of impossible situations and stories about thorns in foreheads being a metaphor for the hard and winding road being the best way to get to your destination, it was all fucking meaningless. But maybe that would be what helped him get back to his boyfriend, maybe it would be what helped his boyfriend forgive Dean for something that wasn't his fault; the fact that it didn't mean anything.

Nothing in her life meant anything.

* * *

Author Note: Guys, when I warn you that this is going to get worse I really really mean it. HOW MUCH WORSE COULD IT GET? somuchworse But if you can handle it, I'd love to have you keep reading, and if you need to periodically yell at me and curse my name, I'm okay with that too because I promise you I will more than deserve it.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and followed and favorited so far, I hope to update on a semi-regular basis (I'm shooting for an average of once a week with chapters being between 7K and 10K words) and this part of the story will be as long as it freaking needs to be to make all of this right. So buckle up, strap in, and hold the fuck on to your feels; it's gonna be a rollercoaster.


	3. I Can Barely Breathe

As soon as Lexi was gone, Dean stripped the bed.

Mostly because everything felt dirty and tainted now by his betrayal of Cas, but also because he didn't want the reminders of exactly how he had betrayed his boyfriend to stain the sheets that the other boy had picked out just for him, for them. Dean knew it was ridiculous, he had had enough sex with enough people to know that everything would wash out, but his whole room smelled wrong and felt wrong and unclean and not the safe haven that Cas had meant for it to be for them anymore and he just needed everything to stop being fucked up so his heart could start beating again because right now he felt pretty fucking dead inside. He felt like maybe the sheets could be washed, that they could be salvaged, but he wasn't sure about himself.

He kept reminding himself that it was all worth it, everything he did to prove himself to his certifiably insane father that he was 'fixed' or whatever so that he could just get away and get back to Cas. Surely, he would forgive him; Cas had to forgive him because if he didn't then Dean would never be able to forgive himself. This already felt like the biggest mistake of his life and he had said as much to Lexi after he came, which had taken a while because even though his nerve endings kept saying that having sex with the call girl was nice and warm and tight like it was supposed to be when you had sex, biology couldn't override the memories of Cas and how his face had looked after just seeing him talking to Cassie that one fucking time or imagining how much worse the expression would be when he told the other boy about this.

Lexi had just given him a sympathetic look as she had gotten dressed and Dean had decided then and there that he would never blame her for this. She was just as much a victim as he was and by letting John force her to do something that she didn't want to do either even though technically it was her job and she had known what she was coming over for, there was no way that Lexi could have prepared herself for the emotional rollercoaster that she had just been through. Dean just added that guilt on top of all of the rest that he was already feeling and resolved to make this up to her somehow if he ever got the chance.

Once the sheets were off he reached for the pillows because some of Lexi's makeup was on the pillowcases on his side of the bed and nope, the tear stains and the mascara smears were probably even worse to look at than any of the other body fluids that had gotten on the sheets. But when he picked up Cas's pillows on the side of the bed that was furthest away from the door he was hit full force with the smell of his boyfriend; the clean minty smell that made his skin tingle and his heart pound only now it brought how completely and utterly he had failed the other boy into sharp relief as he hugged the pillow to his chest and his knees gave out underneath him.

Dean liked to sleep on the side near the door because even though he and Cas had started to feel like this apartment belonged to just them more than it had ever belonged to him and Sam and their dad when it had been just the three Winchesters living there, Dean had never been able to shake the feeling that something would happen. That John would walk in on them sleeping in the same bed together and just know that they were more than friends even if he had never caught them doing anything else. He had thought that maybe by sleeping near the door he could stop John before he hurt Cas, but he hadn't even been able to do that and the memory of how his boyfriend's head had cracked against the bathroom door after his dad had punched Cas just made Dean sob harder as he dropped to his side on the floor and curled up in the fetal position around Cas's pillow.

He tried to compose himself when he heard his dad coming back into the apartment, not even realizing that the older man had left until his opportunity to run to the next apartment over and beg for help had already slipped out of his grasp. Dean just felt so drained and tired and empty that when John showed up at his bedroom door and looked down on him with his lip curled up in disgust, he couldn't even find it in himself to care that he was getting that look from the one person he used to dread disappointing.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get up," John ordered, letting out a heavy sigh as he looked around Dean's repainted bedroom with obvious disdain on his face. "I want you get all of that boy's shit gathered together. Anything he gave you and then pack a bag."

"What do you mean pack a bag?" Dean asked, levering himself up into a sitting position so that he could prop his back against the cushion of his bare mattress. "I have school on Monday, I've already missed a week. I can't miss any more or they aren't going to let me graduate."

"You don't think I don't know that?" John snapped, slapping his hand hard against the doorframe and causing his shirt to rise up enough at his hip that Dean could see that he still had the gun he had been using to threaten Cas tucked into his waistband. "You don't think that the first thing I did when I saw you fucking masquerading with that faggot on the news was call the school and ask why the hell you were in Chicago and not where you were supposed to fucking be? No, if you don't give a damn about your education then neither do I. You're not going back, so pack a bag now."

Dean's heart had started pounding in his chest again which was good because that meant that he wasn't dead, but that also meant that this whole nightmare with his dad didn't look like it was going to be ending anytime soon. He had thought that if he did what John wanted him to do with Lexi then the older man would let him go, consider him absolved of all of his deviant desires for Cas and maybe if he was lucky go back to ignoring him like John usually did. But was he willing to risk Cas's life by refusing to do something that the obviously unstable man with the firearm wanted him to do?

Not in a million years.

He just had to keep up the charade, the perfect son charade that he hadn't realized that he had been resenting and faking for years while John just did whatever the fuck he wanted and neglected him and Sam in the process until just now. Dean could do this and just like with Lexi he didn't really have a choice, not if he wanted to keep Cas safe from John. But he sure as fuck would take the first opportunity to run away from his dad and back to his real family as soon as he fucking could.

"Fine, I'll pack a bag," Dean agreed, climbing stiffly to his feet and going back to stripping the bed and gathering up Cas's things that he had left at the apartment while trying to act like it wasn't breaking his heart by even pretending to be okay with erasing the love of his life from his room because it was. "What am I doing with Cas's stuff?"

"I don't ever want to hear you say his name again," his father ordered, reaching into his back pocket and tossing a small roll of trash bags in Dean's direction. "Just pack up his shit and let's get the hell out of here. I have a job to finish in Eudora and you're coming with me. At least until I'm sure you've learned your lesson."

"And what fucking lesson is that, _dad_?" Dean asked, making sure the sarcastic emphasis that he put on John's title was obvious because after this he wasn't sure if would ever be able to think of the older man as his father anymore. Dads didn't do this, they were supposed to support you and love you and take care of you; he shook his head as he snatched up Castiel's duffle bag that he had left off of the floor and shoved a couple of books that he had borrowed from the other boy into it with stiff, jerky movements.

"You think that this is easy for me?" John retaliated, narrowing his eyes as he watched Dean go around his room and gather books and clothes and CDs that he should've noticed before now as not belonging to his son. "Do you think I like doing this to you? Because I don't, Dean."

"Well you could have fucking fooled me!" Dean shouted, swallowing hard when he saw his father's fist clench at his side and felt the bruising that covered one side of his face throb almost as if in response. He was pushing, being reckless and argumentative wasn't going to get him back to Cas, but he couldn't help himself from being frustrated by John's lack of remorse.

"Despite what you may think," John replied lowly, his voice dangerous and hard sounding as he spoke to Dean through gritted teeth. "I have your best interests at heart."

Dean scoffed in disbelief and went back to carefully packing up Castiel's stuff, arranging everything in the empty spaces of his boyfriend's duffle bag so that maybe Cas would be able to read the message he was trying to project between the t-shits ad the books that were making the bag bulge at the seams. This felt so much worse than when he had packed up Cas's stuff after Thanksgiving, when he had mistakenly thought that the other boy had broken up with him when really Cas just needed space to sort himself out after Dean had seen the scars on his back for the first time.

Back then he had just tossed everything into a box because he wanted to get the reminders of what he had lost so fucking fast as far away as he could before he had started crying and begging Cas to stay with him. But now, now he wanted to hold onto everything that Cas had trusted him with; all of the secrets about his past and the possessions that he had left at the apartment because he thought they would be safe there and the tentative plans they had started to make for their future together felt like it was slipping away from him. It could all disappear for good if he pissed off John enough and that was the only thing keeping him from telling his father exactly where he could shove his sudden interest in Dean's life.

"You have—" John started his voice faltering and causing Dean to look up from where he had gone to find a bag of his own that he could take with him wherever he father was planning on spiriting him off to. The older man cleared his throat and crossed his arms tightly over his chest, the pained expression he had been wearing changing into steely, haunted resolve almost as soon as he saw Dean's movements slow. "I'm doing you a favor, Dean. I know you're pissed off right now and you think that I'm punishing you, but you're just confused. Once you're away from that boy and whatever nonsense he's been filling your head with then you'll understand that."

"Dad, I kissed Ca—" Dean began only to be silenced abruptly by John hitting the doorframe in frustration again, letting out an angry growl this time that was just like the sound he had made right before knocking Dean unconscious with the lamp off the end table in the living room.

"I fucking care how it happened, Dean!" John screamed, face going red with anger before the older man took a deep breath and ran and agitated hand through his hair. "I don't care, alright? You didn't know what you were getting yourself into with him and he took advantage of you being a good person by being friends with him and he twisted into something else. That's what those kind of people do, they drag you down into the filth with them and then run away when shit gets real."

Dean was frozen to the spot, thanking god that it was him who was having to deal with John having very obviously lost his mind and not Sammy because his younger brother would've already popped off about the 'those kind of people' comment and gotten himself killed. But Dean knew how stubborn his dad could be and usually once he had made him mind up it was pointless arguing with him. So if John was crazy and crazy was saying that he was going to shoot Cas if Dean didn't do what he was told and kept arguing with him then Dean was going to not poke crazy with a stick and be surprised when he got the exact response he knew he had been threatened with.

So he just nodded meekly and swallowed down all of the things he wanted to say in his boyfriend's defense because words weren't going to be what kept John from hunting down Cas and planting a round in his chest, his dad was way beyond being reasoned with like a normal person. Rational was just going to end up getting both Dean and Cas killed. John harrumphed in approval as Dean moved to his dresser and started shoving clothes into his backpack before moving out of Dean's line of sight and back down the hallway towards his bedroom that was between Dean and the front door of the apartment.

Dean didn't look at the spiral notebook that was there that he and Cas used to write notes to each other in class with or at the college admission applications that were stuck between its dog-eared pages. He didn't want to think about them, but he also needed some part of Cas to stay with him; a part that was real and tangible and didn't reside inside his chest nestled close to his heart and wrapped around his lungs because right now it felt like that part was trying to claw its way out of his chest taking all of his vital organs with it in revulsion from what Dean had done with Lisa.

But he couldn't think about that or he would start crying and maybe hyperventilating and maybe Dean would finally know how Cas felt during his panic attacks and he could sympathize a little better like he had stupidly always wanted to and then John would know that Dean wasn't 'fixed'; would never be fixed until he saw that his boyfriend was safe and spent the rest of his life making amends to the man he loved for putting them in this situation to begin with. He knew that it would take the rest of his life for him to forgive himself, he just hoped that Cas would be more understanding.

He lingered as long as he could in his bedroom, running his fingers over the blue painted walls and looking forlornly at his guitar in the corner of the room on its stand. Dean doubted he would be back in enough time to play 'Love Me Tender' for Cas on Valentine's Day, but the endgame was being alive long enough to get to play it for the other boy at all; the day didn't matter in retrospect. Dean grabbed up his backpack along with Cas's duffle bag that didn't contain nearly everything that belonged to the other boy that had migrated over to the apartment, but he was counting on John not knowing what was his and what belonged to his boyfriend. He also had a trash bag filled with some random clothes, much of which was really a mish-mash of stuff that belonged to him and stuff that he liked to wear of Cas's; the soiled bedsheets and blankets of his bed he had just left on the floor.

Carrying it all down the hallway and into the living room, Dean stopped short when he saw his dad frowning down at the phone that he had taken from him; making a face at the background picture which was one of him and Cas bundled up against the cold with noses gone red from playing in the snow pressed together in an Eskimo kiss because that's all that Dean had been able to coax out of his boyfriend with Gabe and Sam right there watching them. He didn't realize he was shaking until his dad looked up at him and the older man's frown deepened; John made a move to flip the outdated phone shut but then hesitated, looking down at the device again and then at the bags in Dean's hands.

"That everything?" John asked gruffly, narrowing his eyes at his eldest son's nod suspiciously. "Is he the one who painted that room?"

"Yes," Dean said softly, unable to take his eyes off the phone in John's hand as he calculated the possibility of being able to snatch the device away from the other man before he got knocked out again or worse. "For my birthday."

John gave a derisive snort and looked back down at the phone when it trilled in his hands, causing the screen to flash with an incoming text message and Dean just hoped it was from someone who Cas had asked for help from. Surely the cops would be busting down the door any minute to save him; Sheriff Mills with her no nonsense attitude made the empty spot where his mom used to be twinge in his chest every time she got all soft eyed and sympathetic when Dean had tagged along with Bobby the few times that John had gotten picked up by the cops before either of them could get there. He hadn't really ever talked to her much outside of "Yes, ma'am" and "No, ma'am", but Bobby said she was good people and he trusted his uncle more than any other person on the face of the planet; if Cas had gone to Bobby then everything was going to be alright again soon.

"Who is it?" Dean asked desperately, stupidly knowing that his dad wasn't going to give him a straight answer and regretting the words as soon as they were out of his mouth because John snapped the phone shut with such force that he wouldn't be surprised if the screen had cracked.

"Did he buy you those sheets too or did you pick them out together while you were playing house in the apartment that I was paying for?" John sneered; thumbing the off-button on Dean's phone and shoving it back deeply into the pocket of his jeans.

Dean could only watch and mouth soundlessly at his dad, resisting the urge to point out exactly who it was that had paid for all the shit in this apartment because it sure as hell hadn't been John, but that would be stupid so he just nodded again and dropped the bags he was holding next to the couch. John jutted his chin back into the direction of the bedroom and failed to hide the disgust that was on his face as he looked at Dean.

"Get those too," John explained. "I don't want any of his shit here when we come back. With any luck by then you won't want it here either."

"How long are we going to be gone? " Dean asked softly, hesitating as he turned back towards his bedroom because he really did not want to go. If they left then how would Cas or Bobby or Sam ever know where to find him, especially if John wouldn't let him touch a phone?

"Until you stop wanting to come back," the older man answered drily and Dean nodded like he understood but really he didn't. Was that how it was for John, did he just never come home unless he had to because he didn't want to? Was it that painful for him to be a father to him and Sam when he was doing it all on his own? "Put all his stuff in the hallway and then we're leaving."

Dean turned away from his dad so that he wouldn't see how his eyes were shining and started back towards his room, ignoring the hole in the wall and the broken bathroom door because he was pretty sure he would collapse onto the floor and not be able to get back up if he did. John would probably just hit him some more or call him weak before shooting him and then Cas would never know what happened to him and he couldn't stand the thought of the other boy not getting a chance to say goodbye. That sounded like the worst form of torture imaginable.

It wasn't until he and John were settling into the older man's truck, John's duffle bag and Dean's backpack tossed into the bed of the pickup that John spoke up and said something that gave his son just the faintest glimmer of hope. But that glimmer was extinguished once he registered the full meaning behind the words, like oxygen being sucked out a fireplace and leaving his heart a barely recognizable cavern full of wispy embers and barely there heat. Heat that felt like it was dissipating the more hopeless his situation got, along with the smell of Cas that lingered on his clothes and the taste of the other boy that had long since faded from his lips.

"You're gonna make a call," John told him simply, cranking the ignition and glancing over his shoulder before he started to back out. Dean watched as the older man grimaced and pulled the gun out of his waistband, settling it instead under his thigh that was the furthest away from his son. "And you're going to say exactly what I tell you to say and nothing more. You understand?"

Dean nodded beside his father and bit his lip to keep from screaming, hands twitching on his lap as they pulled out of the parking lot of the apartment complex and headed east out of town. It felt like the entire universe was conspiring against him and Cas to keep them apart, how much more abuse could his boyfriend take before something finally broke? How many more secrets and lies would it take for Dean to be able to get back to Cas and would the other boy still want the person that he had to become in order to stay alive? Dean very highly doubted it.

* * *

Cas didn't know what he was expecting when he anxiously slid out of the elevator and talked down the hallways of the apartment complex, feeling absolutely none of the self-consciousness that he would usually feel if he were dressed in pajama pants and a blood stained Justin Beiber t-shirt in any other situation. No, he didn't know what he was expecting because his stupid phone was dead and he had slept through someone, probably Dean calling him and begging him for help. He had spent the entire drive over from his house imagining horrible scenarios where John was torturing his boyfriend like his own father had tortured him only Dean's father derived a decidedly different sort of perverse satisfaction from the whole thing than the Revered Novak had.

But he really wasn't expecting to find two trash bags and his duffle bag sitting outside in the hallway in front of Dean's apartment and he wasn't expecting no answer when he knocked until his knuckles started bleeding and cracking against the door that the key on Dean's keychain no longer opened. The locks had been changed and there was no way he could get in unless someone let him in; he hadn't seen John's truck in the parking lot when he had pulled the Impala into the space that Dean liked that was shaded more by the building and less by the trees that housed the annoying pigeons his boyfriend hated.

His imagination ran rampant as he slid down to the floor to rest against the door, his palm laid flat on the fiberboard surface so that he could give his knuckles a rest before he did permanent damage to his trigger hand. Virgil was already pissed enough that he had missed two ROTC meetings to go to the trial no matter how unavoidable the absences had been and with the shooting competition coming up after spring break Cas could risk not being able to hold his gun. ROTC was the only thing that centered him in all the chaos and he was going to need the stress-relief outlet in order to be strong enough to help Dean get over what his father had done to them.

Dean had been strong for him, it only seemed natural to return the favor and support his boyfriend in return for once.

Only Dean wasn't answering the door, why wasn't he answering the door? Oh god, what if he was hurt? What if John had hurt him badly enough that he was unconscious and couldn't even hear his knocking? What if he were lying in a pool of his own blood slowly bleeding to death while Cas just sat outside in the hallway feeling sorry for himself?

That made Cas's heart shoot up to his throat and he started banging on the door to the apartment again, crying and calling Dean's name over and over as frantic broken sobs wracked through him until what he was saying was almost unrecognizable as being a name in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking that if Dean were dead he would just die, there would be nothing left for him to live for and Gabe and Anna would be sad yes, but they had Sam and Kevin. They would go on, but how could they expect Cas to do the same if the other half of his heart, of his soul was missing? If Dean were dead, he was dead; there was no future for him that involved Dean Winchester no longer being in the world.

"Clarence?"

Castiel looked up from where he sat crouched on his knees facing the door, both hands balled into fists against it as well as his forehead as he cried and begged for someone to let him in. He knew his face was a mess of snot and tears and pain and he absently felt that his knuckles had actually started bleeding in earnest down his hands and over his wrists, but Meg was only looking at him with a mixture of shocked concern and confusion on her face and she wasn't Dean so why the fuck did it matter?

"Oh my god," She muttered, moving quickly to stoop down next to him and cradle his face in her hands. "Castiel, what happened?"

"I-it's Dean," he forced out, his voice cracking on his boyfriend's name as a fresh wave of grief and worry and guilt overtook him and made him sob as the smaller woman gently cleared away his tears with one of the sleeves of the hoodie that she was wearing.

"What about Dean? Cas, what happened with you and Dean?" Meg shook him slightly, glancing over his shoulder to take in the bags that were sitting against the wall and arching a shocked eyebrow. "Did you two break up?"

He wanted to tell her, he wanted to tell her everything because he needed to tell someone before he exploded, but he hadn't heard from Dean yet and he didn't want to put any more people in danger. John was pig-headed and rash and angry, a treacherous mix that couldn't be controlled or predicted and involving more people in this just meant that there were more people who would probably get hurt. In his head the equation went something like this: crazy person with a gun + people who disagreed with him = casualties.

John was going the definition of postal right now and Cas just couldn't bear the thought of Sam or Meg or Bobby or anyone else he had come to care about getting hurt because of this, because of him and he knew that Dean would feel the same way. So he nodded his head at Meg's question, knowing that it was just another lie that he was going to have to pay for later, but recognizing that if it kept her from getting shot in the long run that she would probably forgive him eventually.

"Oh sweetie," Meg said consolingly, gathering him into her arms and rocking him gently as he cried into the University of Kansas sweatshirt that Cas was fairly sure was actually Luc's judging from how it hung off the smaller woman's frame. "Do you want me to beat him up? Because I so totally will and I'm pretty sure Jo would help. I doubt I would even have to tell her why we're doing it."

He shook his head quickly, drawing back far enough to swipe his hand over his face in frustration. Cas glanced at the door that obviously wasn't going to open for him and flinched away from the small smears of blood that he had left on the off-white door from his broken knuckles that were already starting to throb and blacken with dark purple bruises that bloomed over his pale skin. He felt foolish, especially now that Meg was here. Dean probably wasn't even in there and if the locks had been changed it had probably been done by the landlord or something so he doubted that someone would've seen his boyfriend dying on the floor and just not done anything about it.

"I'll be okay. I just-"he started, reaching out to touch the door again before he stopped himself when pain shot through his hand and he let out an unintended gasp.

Meg noticed and shook her head briskly, rising to her feet and pulling her along with him; ignoring his protests and snatching up both of the trash bags along with his duffle as she herded him down the hallway and around the corner to her apartment where she had been before she had heard his crying. Apparently she had been the only one with enough of a heart at two o'clock on a Saturday afternoon to go and check on who exactly was making that horrible racket. Jeez, people these days.

He watched as she dropped the two trash bags by the front door and then continued onto the kitchen table with his duffle bag, stopping to unzip it there and unloading a large portion of the books and CDs that he had left in Dean's apartment onto her kitchen table with a sympathetic look towards him as he just watched. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it wasn't this. This felt like it was going too far, like maybe he had lost Dean in some way because of John because why else would he be returning Castiel's stuff to him?

Every time he thought he was getting closer to a solution or an answer to any one of the myriad of questions that he had something else happened and he was left feeling the crack of his head against the bathroom door all over again. Castiel rubbed gingerly at his temple as he watched Meg, he could feel a headache forming that was probably from a lack of food and caffeine and fitful sleep that had been full of beautiful dreams that turned into nightmares in the end. But he couldn't relax, not while Dean was somewhere probably being hurt by John.

He couldn't think of a reason why Dean would have put all of his stuff out into the hallway, but maybe it hadn't been his boyfriend. Maybe it had been John just continuing on his downward spiral of hatred and vindictiveness and this was meant to break him so that he wouldn't want to keep looking for Dean, but Cas had made some important decisions back when he first started this. Back when Dean had first pushed him up against the wall outside of the very apartment he was standing in and kissed him in his wings and he had been so happy and stunned that he thought he would faint, he had decided then that the only thing that would make him leave Dean would be Dean telling him to go.

"You look like complete and utter shit, Cas." Meg told him, glancing up from his bag to give him an apologetic shrug as he looked down at his sleep rumpled and blood-stained attire with a grimacing nod of agreement. "You should go clean up, trust me the last thing you want is for Dean to see you walking around all torn up over him. What happened anyway?"

"I don't really want to talk about it," Castiel sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair which felt greasy and sweaty even though he and Dean had just showe—"Just…it was all my fault and he's….mad. At me, I haven't talked to him since yesterday afternoon and I'm worried. I'm worried that he's going to do something stupid."

_Stupid and self-sacrificing and stupid_, Castiel thought; not voicing that part out loud for Meg because that would just lead to more questions that he couldn't answer without putting her in danger. No, it was better if just kept thing vague, let everyone come up with their own versions of why he was acting like a broken-hearted Lifetime movie starlet. It couldn't possibly be because the love of his life was maybe dying in a ditch right now and Castiel had just up and left him with man who been filled with murderous rage over finding out his son was gay or at least gay for Cas which for John might be even worse since Sam was with Gabe.

"Well, tossing all your stuff out like a little bitchy drama queen is already pretty stupid," Meg mused, digging out a pair of jeans and one of Cas's band t-shirts that she tossed at his chest when she moved to plop back down on the couch. "Go on, go change and then you can help me with this. We'll give Deano sometime to cool off and then you two can get all kissy faced and make up again, kay?"

Cas noticed for the first time that the coffee table had a fairly large selection of bridal magazines spread out on its surface and immediately felt bad for pulling his friend away from her happiness over her recent engagement to her boyfriend Luc to deal with all of his bullshit that he couldn't even really tell her about. He mumbled out a affirmative even though honestly he couldn't see how giving Dean time was going to make anything better, if anything his boyfriend needed rescued as quickly as possible because the longer he was with John the longer the older man had to get tired of his son's stubbornness before just writing Dean off as a lost cause and planting a bullet between his eyes.

_If only I could talk to him_, Castiel thought turning towards the bathroom even though it made his pulse pound in his ears because Meg and Dean's apartments had the same sort of set up and the jolt of terror that had shot through him right after he had opened the bathroom door to see John standing there kept replaying on repeat in his head over and over in time with the dull throb at the back of his skull.

He bit back a sob that Meg heard anyway. "Cas, honey? Are you sure you're going to be okay? Do you want me to take me to take you home?"

"Can I just stay here?" he asked, hesitating at the end of the hallway that led back to Meg's bedrooms and bathrooms that eerily mirrored Dean's own sparsely decorated, torn up unwelcoming apartment that had only just started feeling like a home that maybe both he and the other boy could share together. "Just for a bit, I won't be in the way. I just…I want to be close if—when Dean comes home so I can talk to him."

"Of course you can sweetie," Meg said soothingly before she frowned in confusion. "Haven't you called him?"

Castiel rifled his phone out of his pocket and held it up so that the other girl could see the blank, black screen. He let out a rueful, self-deprecating chuckle in an effort to mask how desperately he wanted to cry and tell her the whole story of what had really had happened and how he was so worried that he felt like he was going to throw up but he couldn't. Because then it would just become a huge debacle and while Cas was pretty sure that Dean wasn't enjoying whatever punishment John was inflicting on him, he couldn't know for sure that his boyfriend wouldn't forgive the older man.

Cas had been close to forgiving his own father after all, more so that he could stop carrying around the anger that he had held on to for over a year for Reverend Novak and his oldest brother, Raphael, holding him hostage in the basement of their home in Pontiac, Illinois until he had been so desperate to escape that suicide had seemed like the greatest favor he could give to his worthless, tired, broken body. But he had never thought he was as good of a person as the other boy so he hadn't been able to, maybe Dean would still want John Winchester in his life after the older man got help. Part of him hoped not, but it wasn't really his decision to make.

"Give it," Meg sighed, making a grabby hands gesture towards up until he tossed his phone towards her and she plugged it lazily into one of the multiple charging cables that her and Luc kept scattered around the house. "Honestly, you two are the worst at communicating. Once this is charged you're calling him, don't let it stew until it becomes something you can't fix. Trust me on that, Cas."

"I won't," he promised, turning back towards the hallway and fighting back the panic that loomed up in him as he looked at the closed doors that ran along its length. John wasn't going to pop out at him, Dean wasn't dying behind one of those doors, and he could get through this. He had to be strong enough to get through this, for both him and Dean.

* * *

Author Note: Guys, I'm going to keep warning you that this fic is sad. Because it is sad, like seriously the next at least ten chapters (but you know how it gets away from me sometimes) are going to be sad and angsty and you're going to want to track me down and punch me in the arm like really hard for it all. I know that, but I've had this fic and this part of the fic mapped out since the beginning and I promise it has a happy ending. I don't know how long this part of the story is going to be or even if this part will be the last in the 'verse.

I promise I will pick up the pieces of your feels, but if you can't stand waiting on updates or the suspense then...I can't promise that it's not going to be a while before things get better. It sounds like I don't want you to read, but I really really do. I just feel like you deserve to know what you're getting yourselves into, y'know? So if you stick with me, I promise it will be worth your while or if you decide to wait until this fic is complete before indulging in a binge of sadness and angst that you know is going to end happy, I fully understand and respect that decision too.

Those of you who are tired of the warnings I promise this will be the last one. *hugs* We'll make it through this together, promise.


	4. Lonesome Town

Castiel didn't know what he had expected to feel when his phone was charged enough for him to finally turn it back on. Relief maybe? Because hearing anything at all from Dean now, even the other boy saying that he didn't want Cas to rescue him would have been better than nothing. Which was what he found when he discovered that every single missed call and text that had blinked up on the screen of his phone before it had died in his hand was from Sam or Anna or Gabe; the trio asking, worrying, and complaining respectively about why they had been left waiting at the airport after their return flight from Chicago instead of being picked by Dean and Castiel like they had previously planned.

Not a single voicemail was from his boyfriend, there wasn't even a measly text to let him know that the other boy was still alive and Cas felt the icy dread clawing at his throat until he was shaking. Meg was so distraught and part of him was aware that the fact that he couldn't force any words out of his throat was just fueling her worry. She had already wrapped three spare blankets around his shoulders before he managed to bat her away so he could curl up on his side on her couch and focus on keeping the looming panic attack at bay instead of her fluttering, frantic movements. His mind raced with all the horrible things John could be doing to Dean. Images of torn, bloody fingernails and smoking shotgun barrels assaulted him behind his closed eyelids so he settled on staring blankly at the wall until his eyes watered from not blinking.

He could distantly hear Meg explaining what was going on to Luc when the assistant professor arrived home from wherever he had been, Castle dimly heard the word library before the image of a blood-spattered Bible flittered through his mind and he curled in tighter on himself until the pain his in chest eased enough that he could draw in a shallow breath. She told her fiancé the version, the lie, that Castiel had told her. He and Dean had fought, somehow it was entirely his fault ("But I highly fucking doubt it," Meg added, glancing at her friend's prone form on her sofa.), and now Dean wasn't speaking to him, wouldn't even answer his phone calls.

That last part was true because he did keep calling Dean, listening to the voicemail message that his boyfriend had breathlessly recorded while Cas had been tickling him one afternoon when they were supposed to be studying, before he hit the end call button, counted to a thousand, and called the other boy again; praying each time that Dean would answer and sinking further and into the dark every time he didn't.

_Four hundred and sixty-three, four hundred and sixty-four, four hundred an—_

"No, he won't even talk to me anymore," Meg whispered from somewhere behind the couch. Castiel gave a slow blink and tried to block her out as he kept counting down the seconds until he could press the send button on his phone; Dean's number was already pulled up and mocking him on the small touch screen. "Jo, no. The last thing he said is 'He's gone.' And then he just laid down on my couch. I don't think Dean is answering his calls, what am I supposed to do?"

Huh, guess she was talking to Jo now. Maybe they thought he was going to have a mental break again, they all had to know about him now. Since everything about the trial had been on the news and the reporters hadn't hesitated in the slightest before hurling questions about 'torture' and 'suicide' and 'hostage' at him and his family every time they had left the Chicago courthouse. Oh, well it didn't really matter if they thought he was losing it over Dean because he was, just not for the reasons that they thought.

"Yea, maybe you should try calling him too." Meg agreed softly. Castiel felt a cool hand touch his forehead, the concerned gesture shocking him into blinking away the grit and tears that had formed in his eyes as he had stared at the wall and counted patiently inside his head. "Shit, now he's crying. Jo, I think this was a big fight. Like one of those ones you can't come back from."

_Six hundred and ninety-six, six hundred and ninety-seven, six hundr—_

"No, you're right. Dean's probably just being a big baby about the whole thing, but really is now the best time for all of this shit? They just got back from the trial and Monday is fucking Valentine's Day...yea, I know...yea, Cas has been real excited for it too, but I don't think it's going to happen Jo."

Meg's voice was moving farther away, into the kitchen where Castiel could dimly hear her clattering around with the pots and pans, probably getting ready to start dinner. He had been watching the fading afternoon light streaming in from the small window in Meg's kitchen and had tried to will the sun to keep from setting so that maybe he wouldn't lose another day with Dean to John. The whole way back from Chicago he had been making plans that involved them and not having to hide from anyone anymore; plans about not being scared and the suddenness that all of that had slipped away from him was overwhelming and more that just a little bit painful.

_Nine hundred and two, nine hundred and three, nine hundred and fo-_

"He's gonna stay here," Meg said, sounding small and tired and just making him feel worse for dragging her into al lof this too. "Gabe's got enough on his plate already...Cas said he would go home Monday, but I told him he can stay as long as he needs to. Dean's probably just off hiding somewhere with his tail between his legs for fucking up this shit again. I'm pretty convinced that he's never going to realize just how much Cas loves him, I mean, Jo. When I say he looked bad when I found him, I mean he looked terrible. Now he's like fucking comatose on my couch and all I can think to do is make him soup, I'm useless at this nursemaid bullshit. Yea...maybe you should. Yea, see you soon. Bye."

Before his phone had finished charging, they had been looking at bridal magazines and Cas had been trying to keep his mind off of Dean by convincing Meg that yellow bridesmaid dresses were more likely to be viewed as a sadistic form of torture by Jo and Anna and Luc's sister than they were to be flattering. It had been normal and then he had ruined it all by being harshly reminded every time the voicemail picked up that he had fucked up Dean's life simply by being in it and it looked like nothing he could do was going to fix it. She was probably sick of dealing with their drama and that's why she was calling in Jo as reinforcements, he knew that most couples didn't go through shit like this. But then again, Cas and Dean had never exactly been like a normal couple.

_One thousand_

Cas pressed the send button and then made sure his speaker phone was on, the earpiece had been making his skin feel hot and tacky and blistered and his hands felt like they were shaking too hard for him to be able to hold it up to his face without knocking a couple of his own teeth out. The ringing started and he knew by now that there would be six of them before it clicked over to the automated message system, but it didn't make the empty seconds between the rings any shorter or the pain when Dean didn't answer any less searing.

_"Hey, uh. Cas, stop! This is Dean and I can't come to the phone right now because I'm either trapped under a car or-No, I'm not saying that dork. Get away from me! Noooo! Baby, you're doing that on purpose! Anyway, leave a message and after I'm done reminding someone around here who's boss, I'll call you back. There, Cas you are the wor-"_ **Beep**

Castiel could still remember the day that Dean had recorded the message: what the other boy had been wearing and how his ribs had still been ticklish under the careful, scientific prodding that Cas was administering after Dean had jumped away from the way Cas's fingers had trailed over his sides while they were kissing. Dean had said the automated message lacked personality and had even joked that they should practice recording a message together ("Y'know, just in case one of our phones die or something," had been Dean's, quick and bashful explanation.) He had known it was the other boy's unsubtle way of alluding to their future, but the sentiment had been pushed aside in favor of more kissing.

He took a shuddering breath in and disconnected the call, not leaving a message yet again because what was the point? Dean was probably dead or at least wished he was and Cas had done nothing to help him. Just waited around like an idiot while John took him away somewhere because he was scared of having more people he cared about get hurt. Dean was going to die and Cas would never be able to forgive himself for it; it would only be a matter of time before the simple act of living without the other boy became unbearable. Until then, all he could do was count.

_One, two, three, four, five…_

Castiel went through three more of his torturous calling cycles before there was a brisk knock on the door and his stomach started gnawing angrily at him, incensed because he was resolutely ignoring the smells wafting out of Meg's kitchen in favor of counting and trying not to cry. Luc had disappeared off to the first bedroom down the hall, the one that in this mirror-reversed copy of Dean's apartment was being used as an office for Luc to grade papers and work on his thesis for his own master's degree in political science. In the other apartment it was John's bedroom and despite the fact he had never looked into the older Winchester's bedroom, Castiel doubted it was decorated in the same tasteful burgundies and mahogany that Luc's office was tatted out in.

"Oh hell no," Jo's voice rang out loudly for Castiel in the quiet vortex that had just become his labored breathing and the endless, stream of numbers filing orderly through his mind.

He felt hands on his shoulders and his view of the white walls in Meg's apartment shifted from the blank space between her television and a bookshelf that had been tilted on it's side when he was lying down to a picture of Meg and Luc dressed up in their Halloween costumes that was hanging on the wall. They had been JFK and Jackie, the couple that he and Dean would never get a chance to be or rather one that was too eerily similar for it to not cause Castiel's stomach to turn queasily from the sudden rush of sitting upright.

Jo crouched down on the floor between his knees, holding firmly onto his shoulder with one hand as the other roamed over his face; the back of her hand pressed to his forehead like she was checking his temperature before she moved to cup his cheek. Her expression was a weird mix of concern and anger, the two warring with impatience as her mouth moved with words that he couldnt' or didn't want to hear. Castiel assumed that it was the latter and tried to shift his gaze back off of her, the blank wall was safer to look at than the face of just another person that he had let down.

"Cas? CAS!" Jo said, her voice snapping him out of his stupor along with a soft slap that she gave to his cheek in order to get his attention. "Okay, we're paying attention now right?"

Castiel nodded weakly, his stubble scratching against the palm of her hand though Jo didn't so much as wince away from the sting that he was sure she was feeling.

"Good," She said, pulling him to his feet causing all of the blankets that Meg had wrapped around him to puddle down onto the couch cushions where he had been sitting. Castiel immediately started shivering again, though whether it was from the cold or the shock of him losing his place in his counting that caused it he wasn't entirely sure. "Now listen close, Cas. Because I'm only going to say this to you once. Are you with me?"

He nodded again and shoved his cell phone deep into his pocket as Jo narrowed her eyes at him before turning him and angling them both towards the hallway that led to Meg's bathroom where he had spent just enough time earlier to change clothes in before he almost hyperventilated and bolted back to the relative safety of the cheerily decorated living room. Cas considered fighting against her once he realized that that was where she was leading him, but he didn't have the strength or the drive to care about struggling right now. Especially not against someone who he was fairly certain was trying to help him.

"Now, I love Dean. He's like my closest friend, practically my brother from another mother, y'know?" Jo explained as she guided him into the bathroom and plopped him down on the closed toilet lid, reaching over to plug up the bathtub and start the water as she continued speaking. "But goddamnit, the boy is a fucking moron. Now whatever he did to make you like this-"

"He didn't-" Castiel started, his voice cracking from disuse before Jo held up her hand to stop him from clearing his throat so that he could continue.

"Save your story for the tabloids, Cas." Jo said not unkindly, giving him a sad smile as she made an up gesture with her hands and he stood automatically, flinching back when she reached for the hem of his t-shirt. "Calm down, dude. You're literally about as sexy to me as Garth on any given day. This is just you needing to feel better and a bubble bath always helps with that."

"I'd rather keep my clothes on," Castiel replied, sitting back down heavily on the toilet lid and crossing his arms over his chest causing Jo to just shrug in response as she turned to start rifling through Meg's medicine cabinet where she pulled out a bottle of purplish bubble bath and dumped a hefty dollop into the steaming water.

"My point being, Cas," Jo continued, sitting down on the edge of the tub with her legs stretched out in front of her as she swirled the steadily foaming water with the tips of her fingers. "Dean fucks up, a lot. A measurement which we both know is an understatement, but whatever he did this time. It isn't your fault, no matter what he might have said when he was angry. So the fact that you're sitting here beating yourself up over it is ridiculous. If he isn't going to answer your calls or speak to you then you just need to give him his space. It's just going to make him more determined that you're better off without him if he finds out that you're sitting around torturing yourself."

"But what if he's hurt, Jo?" Castiel asked, sitting forward on the toilet seat and pushing his palms into his burning eyes with a frustrated groan. "What if he goes and does something stupid because he's mad? I'll never be able to forgive myself."

"How about you worry about forgiving him for tossing all your stuff out of his apartment first?" Jo snapped, letting out an irritated huff as she shook her head at the steaming water. "Sorry, that's just...fuck. It's just like Dean to do something like that, impulsive and hurtful because he has a fucking martyr complex that would put Joan of Arc to shame. Listen, he's probably just at Bobby's or something. He likes to go smash the windows out of the junkers when he's trying to wrap his head around something."

He hadn't thought to call Bobby, what if Dean was with Bobby? What if his phone was just broken or locked in the apartment and all of this was a misunderstanding? What if John had tossed all of Cas's stuff out after Dean had left and then decided to change the locks on the apartment so that he wouldn't have to deal with either of his gay sons coming back to contaminate him with their filth? That was it, right? Dean was probably just fine.

"Plus y'know," the other girl said, twisting the knobs on the bathtub to turn the water off before rising to her feet with a stretch and a sigh. "It's not like you're not going to see him at school, I'm sure by then he will have realized what an idiot he's being by not talking to you. You might have just asked for too much from him too fast, he's not used to having someone other than Sam rely on him for like emotional shit. He's probably just overwhelmed."

Castiel nodded at his knees and let out a heavy breath that he felt like he had been holding since the night before when Dean had told him to run. John probably had hit him, but he really didn't think that the Winchester patriarch would be stupid enough to kill his own son. What would he ever stand to gain by doing that? It would just mean that he had permanently lost Dean and drive Sam even farther away. No, John Winchester was a lot of things; homophobic, a drunk, probably mentally ill, and the very definition of bad parenting. But stupid was not one of those things, at least going off of what little information Cas had about the older man and after talking with Jo he did feel a little better about Dean. He was still worried as hell, but as long as his boyfriend made it to school on Monday then he could probably keep from panicking for at least the rest of the weekend.

"Oh and Meg is making spaghetti and you are going to eat it," Jo declared pausing as she started to shut the bathroom door behind herself. The petite blonde held up a warning finger when Castiel opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn't hungry, that he probably wouldn't be able to hold anything down until he saw Dean again and knew the other boy was safe. "No sir. You're going to eat it and if you throw up then you're going to be on a steady diet of Pepto and Saltines for the rest of the weekend. Worrying yourself sick over a silly fight is not going to make anything any better. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Castiel intoned, giving her a half-hearted salute and forcing the barest of smiles on his face so that she would stop giving him that pitying, motherly look that just made the ache in his chest worse. "Bath, food, and then we can try to talk Meg out of picking yellow and pink for her wedding colors."

"Oh no," Jo said, making a face and shaking her head quickly. "Its gonna look like a baby shower threw up all over me, that is not going to work. We're all gonna look like complete crap in those colors, who knew Meg was so fucking girly?"

"Not me," Castiel said with a shrug, watched with a slightly more genuine smile as Jo huffed and shut the door; he double and then triple checked that the door was locked before he started striping out of his clothes.

The water was near scalding, just how he liked it, and felt like a soothing compress for the bruises that were on his elbows from hitting the floor in Dean's bathroom. Cas tried not to think of how when he had left Dean's apartment John had just hit his son across the face or of the purpling marks that so often peppered his boyfriend's skin in places that wouldn't be seen unless the other boy undressed. John knew how to hide the bruises, but there was no way that Dean wouldn't be sporting some sort of shiner at school on Monday. Castiel hoped the obvious injuries would finally be enough that the school might step in and get the people who might be able to help his boyfriend involved. Sheriff Mills had been nice at the dance, Cas couldn't imagine her not doing something to help Dean when he so obviously needed it.

By the time the bubbles had started to fizzle out around him, Cas had already decided that Luc probably wouldn't miss the little bit of the shampoo that he used to carefully wash his hair; tenderly pressing on the large lump at the back of his head to see if it was going to start bleeding again while trying to remember the signs of a skull fracture from when he had had one after Lake Forrest. He figured he had already fucked up by falling asleep while waiting on Dean to call him, so the nausea and dizziness were probably just because he was hungry and not a concussion of some sort.

It wasn't until he was headed back towards the living room, damp towel draped around his neck and phone pressed to his ear as he tried to call Dean again that he heard Meg and Jo arguing in hushed whispered with Luc. The voicemail kicked in and Cas quickly ended the call before the sound of Dean's recorded voice caused his heart to break all over again, leaning instead towards the sound of the trio's discussion that was taking place in the small dining room that bled into the kitchen as he stuck to the shadows of the hallway.

"I'm telling you, Meg," Luc said lowly, his voice sounding remorseful and tired. "I was Dean's age once upon a time. Plus I'm straight so I know, don't be mad at me for telling you my opinion when you two came and asked me for it."

"I'm not mad at you!" Meg practically screamed. Cas heard a loud shush from Jo along with a strange crackling sound that he couldn't place, he was tempted to glance around the corner to see what they were talking about, but something in his gut was telling him that he didn't want to know. "I'm just...I'm mad at the fucking situation okay, Luc? He's gonna make Cas have like a mental break and then throw all of his shit out, but not before he fucking cheats on him?! That asshole is dead. Beyond dead."

"Okay, we don't _know_ though do we?" Jo interjected in a hurried whisper. "We. Don't. Know. And until one of us is able to talk to Dean about it we just need to go off the only information that we _do_ have, which is that Dean and Cas fuck like its the end times so that's probably all it is. Alright? Don't jump to conclusions."

"I just wanted to do some fucking laundry," Meg complained and there was the crackling sound again as her voice moved farther away, towards the small stacked washer and dryer that was off the kitchen if Castiel had to guess. "Poor kid has been living out of a duffle bag for a week and now he has to deal with Dean's emotionally stunted bullshit. I warned him, Jo. But did he listen to me? Nooo, fucking green eyes dragged him right the fuck in…"

Meg's voice was muffled now and Cas couldn't make it out, but judging from what little he had heard it felt like the bottom was dropping out of his stomach. Luc was wrong, Meg was wrong, and nothing in the world would convince him that Dean could ever...Dean had liked girls before though and Castiel hadn't ever really expected the other boy to just stop noticing a pretty face just because he was around. It would be selfish to ask that much from Dean and he had always been happy with what they had because it was all that he had ever wanted with another person, but if Dean needed..._that_ from someone, he was more than fairly certain that Dean would want it from him. Especially with how he had been talking in the shower.

Cas shook off his doubt and headed around the corner, making a concentrated effort to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping as he ruffled the towel through his hair one last time. Luc was sitting at the kitchen table, watching Jo as she carefully packed the books and other assorted knick knacks that had been left in the hallway by Dean back into his duffel bag so that she could make room for the stack of plates that were sitting near her elbow. Meg was halfway hanging out of the small closet that housed the wash and dryer, still muttering to herself until she turned around to see Cas standing there; the black trashbag that his clothes and Dean's linens had been in hanging limply in her hands, deflated like the saddest, neglected Thanksgiving Day parade balloon ever.

"Hey hon," Jo called brightly, shooting Meg a warning glance until the brunette started moving; shoving the empty trashbag into her recycling bin as she ambled over to the table with a nonchalance that was not believable in the slightest. "Dinner's ready and I've officially talked Meg into anything color besides yellow. Pink is still on the table though, Luc has begged her to change her mind. Haven't you, Luc?"

"Yea yea," Luc agreed quickly, giving Castiel an apologetic look before the plates rattled on the table and the older man let out a startled curse that he tried to cover with a cough. Jo glared at him for a second before hefting the duffle bag over to sit underneath the coat hooks by the front door and returning quickly to spread the plates quickly out around the table. "Anyway, Cas. It's good to see that you're feeling better. Hopefully you can talk some sense into my old lady before I'm forced to walk down the aisle wearing a magenta ascot."

"If you're thinking that you're going to be the one walking down the aisle than we have bigger issues here, buttercup," Meg said, dropping a kiss onto Luc's upturned forehead before she dropped heavily into one of the chairs and watched while Jo busily moved food from the kitchen to the table with the same kind of motherly air that Ellen had when she was cooking for the houseful of teenagers that she routinely woke up to discover lounging around her house.

"We're a progressive couple," Luc argued, nudging her jokingly until she allowed him to take her hand and hold it in his; lacing their fingers together. "I'll even take your last name if you want me to. You can toss my garter and I'll toss your bouquet, there are no rules when you're getting married."

Castiel felt his heart give a painful lurch when he thought of how he and Dean fit together perfectly just like the other couple before he quickly took the seat at the opposite end of the table from Luc, next to Meg. Jo strategically placed a bowl of garlic bread near him before snatching up his plate and loading it down with steaming noodles and marinara sauce, more than he could ever possibly eat with the way his stomach was contorting, but he would try for her. Dean would be mad if he showed up to school looking like a skeleton on Monday and all of the lingerie that he had bought almost as a joke for the other boy's Valentine's Day gift wouldn't fit right if he lost too much weight.

"So colors," Castiel said, picking up his forking and cautiously winding spaghetti around its tines as he forced himself to think positive because Dean was alive, he was; Cas could just feel it in his bones. "I always thought teal was a good spring color, mature. Pastels for an April wedding would be really predictable."

* * *

Naomi always made a point to get to work early. Usually she would arrive long before the janitors so that she could drop off the usual box of donuts that she picked up on her way to work; the one that everyone thought that Tessa actually brought because there was no way that cold hearted Principal Tapping bought breakfast for her coworkers every single day. Nor did she start the first pot of coffee in the break room since she was always complaining about the teachers finishing it without starting more for other people. Hardass that she was of course she didn't tip out some of Chuck's 'hidden' break room bourbon into the sink every morning so that it was just a little bit more than the other man wouldn't get a chance to drink; though she hadn't found a new bottle in his usual hiding places in quite a while.

Of course she did all those things. Along with sorting through the mail if it was stuck into the school's oversized mailbox by the time she got there, just one more job that the overworked receptionist didn't have to do and one that Lila didn't like to pass off to the student office aides because they were too tempted to snoop through the interoffice memos that the teachers got in their individual pigeonhole mail slots. Naomi did a lot of things that no one asked or expected her to do, was way more concerned about her students than a lot of people thought, and knew exactly why Dean and Sam Winchester had been out of school for the last week despite what the man who had claimed to be their uncle had told Lila when he called.

But she was still expecting both boys to be back when the Novaks returned to school and the principal had already sent an email out to all the teacher asking for them to be understanding when all four students returned, stating that they needed to be reasonable with the dates they set when they handed over all of the work that their charges had missed during the week they had been in Chicago. Spring break was coming up soon and it felt like graduation was just looming around the corner, Naomi was just as ready for the break away from the school and all of her fellow teachers as the students were.

Valentine's Day found her going about her usual routine; disarming the alarms and flicking on the hallway lights as she passed sorting through the large bundle of mail that was disconcertingly peppered with red and pink envelopes containing wishes for a happy holiday that some former students sent to the administration no matter what the actual occasion was. The President's Day cards were right up there with the Arbor Day ones as being some of the strangest pieces of mail that Naomi had ever seen. But then again, it was always nice to hear back that kids she had watched struggle through the hierarchies of high school were doing well.

Naomi leaned up against the high counter top that separated the scattered chairs and potted plants that made up the office waiting from from Lila's desk, the teacher's mail slots, and the door that led to Naomi's office in the back corner of the room; sorting the envelopes into stacks for each teacher as she hummed an old Ricky Nelson song under her breath that was absolutely not in the spirit of the love-themed holiday. She had watched Pulp Fiction the night before, alone with her cat and it was either humming anti-love songs or the one about counting flowers on the wall which would be stuck in her head all day if she started thinking about that one.

The mail was just more of the usual: random Valentine's Day cards for random teachers (not all of them got one and rarely did a former student think to send one to more than just the instructors who they had felt close to), notices reminding some of the older teachers to check their retirement and pension funds, a bland form letter from the union reminding them that it was that time of year for open enrollment again, and a slim pale blue envelope that was addressed just to her in familiar, spidery script.

_Well at least it's something new,_ Naomi thought, neatly slitting the top of the envelope with the letter opener that she had retrieved from Lila's desk and pulling out the page of stationery that was inside along with a piece of plain white copy paper that had a small, dark rounded image printed on it.

'_Dearest Naomi, _

_I hope that isn't too forward, "dearest". It feels normal to write it and I am more than sure it would feel amazing to say it, to call you that like I've wanted to for all of these years, but you know how I am with words… I've been trying to think of what I wanted to say to you for a while now, since long before New Year's Eve and maybe I should've said something before then, but I feel like it wouldn't have been fair to saddle you with any unwanted declarations when all you've ever offered to me is friendship and understanding. I'd hate to lose those things, but without an explanation I don't know if I can continue moving forward with the program I'm in. Attached is a copy of my one month chip from AA. I know a month isn't anything to brag about, but I've been encouraged to see my progress instead of focusing on the years that I wasted failing myself and everyone around me; especially you. _

_Naomi, I want to apologize for all the ways that I failed you. Not just your shoes, which I've given Tessa the money to replace to give to you if you want it, but also for not being the type of person who is brave enough to stand up to the school board and say the things that you haven't been able to say. The politics of being a principal have kept you from standing up to the intolerance that runs so rampant in this school, the school board has tied your hands and I should have taken the initiative long ago to take that bullet for you and your family so that the student's at this school wouldn't have to deal with the same kind of narrow mindedness that your family had to deal with. I've brought the matter to the local PFLAG chapter and they have decided to start a petition that will call for a re-election of the school board members at the end of this year. I know its not much, but for a recovering alcoholic/coward its about the best I can do for you._

_As for me and you (not to presume that there is a 'you and me', is there?) I know I've probably lost my chance if there ever was one with you. But in the spirit of the holiday I've decided to tell you that I love you. Since the first day that you introduced yourself to the faculty as the new principal, determined and fearless in ways that I never will be, I knew that you were someone who's life I wanted to be in in whatever way you would have me. I'm under no illusions that you feel the same way, especially after all of the times that you have seen me at my absolute worst, but I felt like you needed to know and that maybe we could start to fix our friendship if nothing else. _

_Being in recovery has taught me to value the things in my life that I can't live without and you are one of those things Naomi. No matter what you decide to do, know that nothing will change how I feel about you and just having you speak to me again would be more than I could ever hope to expect. _

_Love always,_

_Charles Elyon Shurley'_

The office had started to fill around Naomi; Lila bustled in muttering under her breath about kids these days and cleaning her glasses that constantly hung on a chain around her neck with the edge of her cardigan. The hallways outside the office were steadily filling in with the early bird students who always showed up early and loitered in the hallways, right now they were carrying various balloons and bears and boxes that were tagged red and pink in the honor of the holiday; chattering excitedly about who the gifts were meant for without a care in the world. She saw Virgil and Pam pass by together, heads bowed low and hands brushing between them as they walked like they were fooling any of the students or other teachers by being discreet; at least they weren't having sex in their classrooms.

She read the letter one more time, trying to force the giddiness that she could feel building in her chest from manifesting itself as girlish giggles that would completely undermine the steadfast persona that she had been cultivating for all of these years. After that second read through Naomi passed off the task of sorting through all of the mail; apologizing to Lila before briskly making her way down the hallways in the general direction of Chuck's classroom with the letter folded neatly, but clutched like a grenade that was about to go off in her left hand.

The closer she got though and the more students that she saw in the hallway, talking and laughing and letting out surprised little exhaltations of surprise over gifts that had been left in their lockers, the more Naomi started to doubt that Chuck actually meant the words that he wrote in his letter in the way that she hoped he did. There were a lot of different types of love afterall. Maybe the English teacher had meant philia and storge, the kind of affectionate and familial love that Naomi associated with her siblings and that Chuck probably felt for her since she so often was there to be the shoulder that he leaned on. What if it wasn't eros or agape that the man felt for her? The heady, intoxicating, physical need to have her in his life like Naomi had to be amongst the towering stacks of books that traversed Chuck's apartment like she was always meant to be there. It could very well be possible that she was reading more between the lines of his handwritten letter than he meant for her to simply because she wanted to.

Naomi slowed her pace, lingering in the hallways as she watched the students talk to each other; the couples standing close enough that she should probably reprimand them, but it was Valentine's Day and Naomi just couldn't bring herself to rain on their parade. Joanna Harvelle was practically bouncing in place as Adam Milligan clasped a small golden necklace around her neck before she the smaller girl spun around and pressed him against the lockers with a kiss that lost some of its heat once the male student pointed out that they had an audience that included the principal.

She could only smile at them with a wry tilt to her head that urged them to save it for after school before continuing on to the next hallway that housed half of the senior lockers and Chuck's classroom. Miles Lindberg was standing with Castiel Novak and Krissy Chambers who had her hand fixed snugly in one of the mulleted student's back pocket, speaking in low and concerned tones with the other senior who had dark circles ringing his blue eyes and was wearing a grey Henley that seemed to hang of his tired frame. The trial had probably been the type of ordeal that no teenager should ever have to go through, which was just another reason why Dean and Sam missing a week of school was not on the principal's number one list of concerns.

Chuck's homeroom was full of freshman, a fact that the English teacher both hated because most mornings he was nursing a hangover that wasn't helped by the chattering of a classroom of fourteen and fifteen year olds and loved because the student's zeal reminded him of why he had started teaching in the first place. When the warning bell signaled, his classroom was already halfway full of girls cooing over boxes of chocolate or tasteful cards that had really been picked out by their boyfriends' mothers because a card singing the latest pop ballad was not romantic in the slightest and the older women knew that better than their sons.

He had always thought that homemade, handwritten cards were much more thoughtful, but then again he had always been much better with the written word that abstract gestures of affection. After talking to Tessa about how he could make up for the debacle that was New Year's Eve to Naomi, sending a letter had just seemed like the most obvious choice, but almost as soon as he had dropped it into the blue outgoing mail bin at his apartment the panic had clutched at his chest and Chuck had wanted nothing more than to crawl inside the metal container and retrieve what surely was the most awkward confession of love ever written. The grizzled, sleep deprived older man had briefly considered dropping a match down the mail chute, but had thrown that idea out when he had decided that bringing down the wrath of the fire department on his neighbors probably would not make him very popular.

So all he could do was wait for the hammer to drop; for Naomi to either come to him and tell him that while his confession was sweet it was not reciprocated or to drop off the paperwork for sexual harassment and tell him to stay the hell away from her. Chuck honestly believed that either of those outcomes would be better than the waiting, which he had been doing since dropping the letter in the mail during the middle of the last week; prompted to be brave by the stiff-shouldered way that Dean had pushed a path through the reports clogging up the steps of the Chicago courthouse so that Castiel could get through and inside the building. If a kid almost half his age could stand up to a pack of rabid reporters and the homophobia of a significant portion of the country, well then Chuck had figured that he could at least put pen to paper and stop being such a wuss about his feelings.

The rest of his student's poured in and Chuck gave one last glance to the list of the morning announcements that Pam had dropped off for him on her way to her own classroom, something she had been doing for him since he had taken to avoiding the office and the perpetual cold shoulder that the woman he loved had turned on him, before a knock interrupted him just as he was about to begin rattling off more of the same insipid rules that the school board kept trying to shove down the students' throats. He more than secretly hoped that all of those old bastards got what was coming to them from PFLAG and every kid like Dean and Castiel who wouldn't hesitate to stand up to them, but the sentiment paled when he saw Naomi standing in his doorway looking more unsure of herself than he had ever seen her and clutching a very familiar looking piece of stationery in one of her hands.

"Chuck," Namoi started, taking a hesitant step into the room before she noticed that all of the background chatter, that constant buzz of energy that teenagers just seemed to always exude, had ceased as soon as the freshman saw the principal standing in the doorway. He saw her tense before she was probably even consciously aware that she was doing it and his heart leapt in his chest when she pushed a stray curl that had fallen out of her usual bun back into place behind her ear. "I mean, Mr. Shurley. Can I speak for a moment?"

"Yes!" Chuck answered quickly, jumping to his feet and causing the students in the front row to flinch slightly when the movement caused the perpetually filled coffee mugs on his desk to rattle ominously. "Yesyes, give me um...Kevin! Come up here and read the announcements for me, after that guys just uh...study, quietly."

He tugged at the rolled up sleeves of his button down as he moved towards the door, smoothing down his tie and wondering if Naomi would notice that he had ironed everything he was wearing. It had taken burning a hole through a t-shirt that he used to be rather fond of and a dress shirt that he hated before he had finally given up and asked his kindly next door neighbor to show him how to use the Christmas present that he had gotten from his boss over a year before. Chuck had also trimmed his beard, unwilling to part just yet with that particular security blanket even though shaving was less daunting now that his hands didn't shake all the time anymore.

Chuck stepped out of the classroom, shutting the door behind him with a soft click before taking the few steps down the hallway where Naomi had stopped with her back towards him; her shoulders tight under the purple blouse that she had on with the pencil skirts that she liked to wear when the weather was warm enough to warrant it. He immediately felt bad because he hadn't meant to make her so upset with his letter, but his sponsor had told him that it would be cathartic to put the words down on paper and it had been until it slipped down the mail slot; then it had just led to the most stressful weekend of his life.

"Hey, um…" Chuck started, wanting to reach out to Naomi when she turned to look at him, her face a mask that he used to be able to read so well with eyes that searched his own looking for what he didn't know. "If you mad or if you just want me to back off I get it, I just...I thought you should know. But honestly Noams, could the mailman have worse timing?"

Naomi had turned prepared to search through the clouds that always covered Chuck's gaze, but had been surprised to find the familiar blue eyes of the other man clearer and more piercing than she had ever seen them; reaching past her defenses to make her forget how to breath for just a second. That second was more than enough though for the other man to get an awkward joke in and for him to use the nickname that no one else dared to use besides her sister and Tessa. It was comforting to know that even though they hadn't talked in a while that they could still pick up where they had left off. Since the disastrous events of the New Year's Eve party when she had realized that until Chuck saved himself she was just reliving the same cycle of unhealthy codependency that she had left behind with Scott in New York Naomi had kept her distance, but now...maybe now she could stop torturing herself by staying away when it was the last thing she wanted to do.

"I think the mailman has pretty amazing timing, Chuckles," Namoi replied softly, melting when Chuck smiled at the use of her own nickname for him before she realized that she could actually see his smile instead of it being hid behind an unkempt, bushy beard. He actually looked really good, put together and well rested like she had never seen him look; it was doing extremely dangerous things to her self control. "You could have saved yourself the postage though, given me this in person or just talked to me."

"Do you know how scary Lila can be when you've told her not to let anyone bother you?" Chuck asked, earning an unladylike snort from the other woman that he wouldn't mind hearing for the rest of his life. "And the talking...y'know words...hard."

"You're not doing bad right now," Naomi said softly, looking up the few inches that still separated them despite the heels that she was wearing with her skirt; she had always liked that Chuck didn't use his height to intimidate people. "And we probably could've both saved ourselves the suspense. Five years is a long time to wait to drop a bomb like this on a person."

"Are we talking an atomic bomb here?" Chuck asked hopefully, taking the chance to step in close enough to Naomi that he could touch the back of her hand that was still clutching the letter that he had sent her. "Or like...one of those really shitty firecrackers that just has bomb in the name, but no one is surprised when it doesn't live up to its name?"

"I feel like you're insulting yourself somewhere in there," Naomi replied, grinning down at his hand bemusedly before she caught his fingers with his free hand and laced her own digits through his. "And its like a little flash bomb; surprising, but not devastating. No loss of life or anything."

"Well that's good," the other man agreed, "Because I like to think of myself as a lover not a fighter."

"You did not just-"

"I did just," Chuck interrupted causing Naomi to let out a chuckle that she buried behind the letter in her hand as she looked up at him underneath her eyelashes. "So I'm not getting rejected here right? Because I know my moves are a little unorthodox, but I would like to take you out."

"Tonight would be a horrible night to try to go on a first date," Naomi pointed out, sighing when she saw that Chuck's fingertips were still with ink from the ribbon of his typewriter; everything hadn't changed then, Chuck was still Chuck and he was in love with her. "Everywhere is going to be busy."

"Tomorrow, the day after, any night," Chuck said quickly, sounding just like his normal self and reassuring Naomi that this wasn't in fact a dream or a desperate Valentine's Day hallucination. "Hell you can come over and eat leftover Chinese and I will watch whatever horrible reality show you want. I just...I want this...with you. I always have."

"Are you really in AA?" Namoi asked suddenly, needing to know because that was going to be the deal breaker for her; unlike his ex she liked the writing and how Chuck could get lost in the worlds he created for his characters, but sobriety was going to be a must. "I don't think you're lying, but I need to know you're serious. I need to know its going to stick."

"I am and Noams, I can't promise it's going to stick. But I can sure as hell promise to try, especially if having a drink means losing the possibility of this." Chuck replied earnestly, running his thumb over the back of her hand in short, soft strokes that helped ground him from how elated he was by the possibility of Naomi feeling the same about him as he did about her. "I would really like to kiss you now."

"Chuck, you have a classroom full of students-"

"Naomi!" A voice called from down the hall, the brisk tapping of heels on the tile floor and the familiarity of the voice giving away the guidance counselor Tessa as she stormed towards the principal with a determined look on her face. "We need to talk, I just got the strangest call fr-am I interrupting something?"

"You really do have the worst timing, Tess." Chuck replied, not taking his eyes off of Naomi even as she blushed and ducked her head; giving his hand one last squeeze before she pulled it out of his grasp. "Even worse than the mailman."

"I don't understand that joke," Tessa said impatiently, tapping her foot as she spoke. "But I am happy to see that you two have worked your crap out. However, I do need to borrow our boss to sort out a situation before you two sneak off to make out in a closet somewhere. Don't even deny it, Naomi. I'm your best friend, remember?"

"We'll talk later," Naomi mumbled, looking completely mortified by the other woman's statements, but not denying anything that the guidance counselor had said as she turned to go with Tessa. "I'll um..I'll come by during your off period, maybe we can go to lunch together or something."

"Yea, of course," Chuck agreed quickly, letting her take a couple of steps before a thought struck him and he dug frantically through his pockets; coming up with his red One Month chip from AA that he held out towards her. "And uh...take this...so I know that you have a reason to talk to me later."

"I'll tell Lila to stop guarding me, Chuck," Naomi said, putting up her palm to stop him as he reached to put the chip into her hand. "You don't have to-"

"I trust you not to lose it," he said softly, curling her fingers carefully over the cool, raised metal. "Also I need a reason not to hide myself away from you, because y'know...as soon as you walk away I'm going to freak out about all of this."

"Well she will too," Tessa said quickly, making a come on gesture with her hands when both Naomi and Chuck gave her a pointed look. "I'm being the honest expediter here. You both like each other and you both have issues with relationships, you're both going to try to talk yourself out of this. Don't. Can I have Naomi now? Because I've got some serious fuckery going on and zero time for this."

"Yea, go," Chuck said with a sigh, giving Naomi one last smile as she mouthed 'I'm sorry' at him and turned to follow Tessa who had already set off back down the hallway. "I'll just...go back to molding the minds of the future and stuff, don't mind me."

Naomi didn't even try to hid the stupid smile that was on her face from Chuck's last comment, just let it wrap around her so that it could buoy her up for whatever it was that Tessa needed her for; guidance counselor emergencies usually involved SAT scores and schedule changes, nothing life or death that the other woman couldn't usually deal with by herself.

"So I know that you've been keeping it up with the trial," Tessa explained as the walked, the hallways echoing with her words even though she was speaking softly. "Castiel's trial. Lila told me that you've been worried about him since the dance and I know that Alistair and Azazel's in-school suspension is almost over, but I wasn't sure if you've been keeping up with Dean Winchester…"

"Well," Naomi began, following her around the corner and into her office that was little more than a decently sized closet that Tessa had still managed to make her own. "I know that both of the Winchesters were in Chicago all that week with the Novaks, but they're not behind in any of their classes so I'm sure they will have no trouble catching back up-"

"Not Sam," Tessa interrupted, settling behind her desk with a tired sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I went by his homeroom to make sure he was here before I came to find you, I thought that maybe something had happened with the family and that their father was pulling them both out for some reason or another. But Sam is here and the message that I walked into find on my phone this morning is just too strange, especially since Dean just took the SATs and Castiel said they were both applying to the University of Kansas. I had already started looking for scholarships and work studies for him because we both know that their father isn't going to help him with anything-"

"What is going on with Dean, Tess?" Naomi asked, stopping the rambling that the other woman only ever did when she was really agitated about something.

"He called over the weekend and left a message," Tessa explained, reaching towards the office phone that was sitting on her desk and turning it towards the principal who had sat down across from her in one of the hard plastic seats that students usually used. "Noams, he said that he's dropping out."

* * *

Author Note: So some Chuck/Naomi resolution, at least a little. Everything isn't always dark, it will be for Dean and Cas for a while, but I promise that this fic will get brighter after a good long while. Thanks to everyone for the reviews and favorites and such, I've had some computer trouble but it's been taking care of so hopefully I will get back on track with posting in a timely manner. Much love everyone for your patience. :*


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